In Search of Heroism
by C-Bear
Summary: A New Chapter as of Aug. 13 A character-driven piece concerning all our favorites, starring Legolas and O/C, with a good bit of Sam and Frodo, too. New relationships are built and old ones tested as a new terror develops in ME.
1. Chapter 1: Endings

This story takes place after the one Ring is destroyed and the characters are returning to Rivendell together. These characters are based on those from the book, but when I imagine them, I see the way they look from the movie, hence the Scottish accent for Pippin. It just fit. The rest of the story then changes.

  
  


Chap 1

  
  


"Shit," Miranda whispered as she stumbled over her own shoes. She sent a frantic look over at the lump in the center of the bed, but it didn't move. Carrying her shoes and bag in one hand and her bra and coat in the other, she slipped out of her ex-husband's apartment and ran towards the subway, swearing as her feet encountered sharp objects and nasty sticky stuff that didn't bear contemplating.

**Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!!** she thought, as she sat nursing her bruised feet on the tube. She'd promised herself the late night booty-calls were a thing of the past. But again he had called, and again she had answered. So much for dignity and self-respect.

Three months into the relationship, she had known it was doomed. After all, who could live with a man who thought he was Intelligent (with a capital 'I') because he differentiated between 'films', 'movies', and 'flicks?' The pretensions didn't stop there. However, a girl has to bite the bullet and marry at some point, right? And she hadn't been getting any younger.... The marriage lasted nearly a year before Miranda realized her husband's late night meetings included cheap hotel rooms and cheap booze and expensive women. The divorce was final six months ago, but she had yet to even think about dating again. 

And it had been a rough day. Her Visa bill arrived, she had to deal with several VERY annoying French couriers who thought only the Four Seasons was a good enough hotel, and had found Maggie, her 8 year old yellow lab, chewing on her favorite (and only) pair of Manolo Blahniks. All in all, it seemed like a great night to sit in her recliner, drinking expensive, imported beer and watching insanely bad TV. And then the phone rang. And Dave started in on how he missed her and how he'd been wrong, how he still loved her and wouldn't she please come over so that they might talk things through? Four hours and two condoms later, she had something to hate herself for.

At 28, Miranda knew she still had plenty of time to find 'the One'. She knew she should be happy having an affordable rent-controlled apartment in London, a job she loved that allowed her money to travel and big tits. Of course, London seemed to be filled with gay men, she had virtually no time to travel, but did have big hips and a big ass to go with the big breasts.

Turning the key and letting herself into her apartment, she passed by the hall mirror and stopped, staring at herself thoughtfully as the usual inventory ran through her head.

**Long blond hair: good; tendency of hair to turn into huge frizz-ball: bad. Big green eyes:good!; beginnings of a line across her forehead: bad. Tiny waist: good; cellulite on thighs; bad. Height of 5'6: good; weight of well, never mind.** Sighing, she turned away and headed into the kitchen to drink mass quantities of coffee and read yesterday's mail. Bill. Bill. Red bill. Letter from Dad (why don't you ever come for a visit?). Letter from Rachel-Wait! Tearing open the airmail letter, she scanned the message looking for two words: 'wedding' and 'maid-of-honor' (ok, 4 words, but close enough). Sure enough, there they were, right near 'June 8th' and 'extraordinarily ugly frock'. Rachel had filled the role of best friend admirably during the divorce, always offering a 'bloody, sodding bastard!' or tub of ice cream at appropriate moments, so when she requested that Miranda drop everything and rush up to northen Scotland for the wedding (her fourth, actually), Miranda knew she'd better start pricing tickets.

*******

  
  


"But Sam, what will ye say? It's no as if ye can jus waltz up to th' lass an say 'Lassie, marry me!' " Pippin exclaimed. "Ye hafta woo her an, do.....other....things...." he trailed off and looked towards the other Hobbits for help. 

Merry nodded and added hastily, "Bring her flowers. Lasses like that. And er, wash your feet before you go in the house!" The two cousins were advising Sam on the courting processes of asking a lady, Rosie, in this case, to be his wife. But Sam had turned bright red the moment 'Marry' was said and sat miserably on the log, his shoulders hunched to his ears.

"But what if she says no? What if she's already married? I mean, its not as though we were bound before I left or anything. I didn't even really say good-bye. What if she-" he stopped, his eyes filling with tears, "what if she hates me?"

"I'm sure she doesn't hate you, " Legolas added from his perch on top of a large boulder. He carefully sharpened his blade on an elven whetstone and added, "You are a courageous, honorable hobbit. What more could the lady ask?"

"A comfortable home, good beer, a husband who doesn't go off adventuring. Oh. And babies," Sam said.

"Babies?" Pippin repeated in alarm.

"Babies?" Merry squeaked.

"Babies?" Legolas asked, for once uncertain.

"Babies," Sam confirmed woefully, "Tiny little ones, who weep all night and want changing all day." The hobbits squirmed as they thought of this new aspect. Legolas, however, looked a bit wobbly.

"What are they like-the babies?" he asked quietly. The three hobbits looked at one another in surprise. Children were such a natural part of the Shire, they could not comprehend a world in which there was no yelling and crying and little pants hung out to dry. They quickly realized, however, that life in the elven worlds was far different.

"Weeeel....." Pippin began, rubbing his ear, thoughtfully, "they're quite tiny. Ye feel as though ye might break 'em if ye grabbed 'em wrong."

"Grabbed them? You don't 'grab' babies!" Merry exclaimed in outrage. "You sort of hold them delicately and, erm...." he made cradling motions with his arms, "They cry the night through and need to eat more often than Pip! You can't ever leave them alone, for they might roll off the table and erm...." Merry shrugged, unsure of the finer aspects of child-rearing, being a bachelor himself.

"It's a good thing you don't have any little ones!" Sam cried, indignantly. "Babies are soft and sweet. They're always warm and they don't mind if you tell them the same story you might have already told them. When you hold one, its as if nothing else matters. Its just you and the babe and the world drops away..." a far-away look came to Sam's eyes as he imagined his pretty Rosie sitting next to him, their babe in her arms. The others began to feel uncomfortable, and Merry cleared his throat, rather more loudly than was necessary. Sam came back to himself quickly, and colored, thinking of how foolish he must seem. He looked around in embarrassment and latched on to the tranquil elf.

"What's it like for the elves, then? Don't you fall in love and get married and have little ones?" he asked.

Legolas was affronted, and began to refuse to explain the rituals of Elves, by their very nature a private group, but he noticed the fourth Hobbit had sat up and was watching him with interest. Leaning against a trunk, his legs curled up beneath him in true hobbit-fashion, Frodo smoked his pipe and gazed curiously at Legolas. The other hobbits noticed with pleasure, for it had been rare in recent days, that Frodo took part in any conversations or seemed aware of them at all. They knew his ordeal with the ring had taken far more out of him than any of them could imagine, but they missed their friend. Their hearts hurt when they saw his vacant stares and pained countenance.

"We do love," Legolas began haltingly, "And sometimes we marry, but it's different, "he stressed. The taciturn elf, so agile with a bow and sure-footed in a fight, looked dubious about how he might explain elven affairs of the heart to hobbits.

"We live such a......very long time-" his words stumbled and he watched his blade.

"Yeh, we know, elves, immortal. Niver-goin-ta-die. Niver-get sick. Bloody tall. And er...cold-blooded!" Pippin finished with a flourish. Legolas looked up sharply, the usually emotionless blue of his eyes, flashing with seldom seen anger.

"We may not flounce and dramatize every utterance, nor embrace every stranger we meet, but Elves are not as cold and unaffected as you imply," he said, the ire in voice emphasizing his words.

"We have lived far longer than any of you might contemplate and will live even longer. There comes a point when individual feelings cease having such great importance and the good of the many comes first. None of you will ever know the weight nearly 3,000 years carries with it. The memories.....If we were to feel as strongly as you hobbits, how could we bear it?" He dropped his head again, the emotion quickly leaving his voice.

"There was a time when elves bred quickly and easily. But then there were fewer wars. Fewer dying, more living. We rejoiced, and then noticed that with the living came a slowing. When we do not die, how could we expect that others might be born?"

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


To be continued....

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Incorruptible Cat-likeQuick

honorLightSwift

dignitySupplefleet

stoicResilientagile

emotionlessMalleablespry

coldPliantDynamic

unaffectedSpeedily

imposingSure-footed

guileless 

unfeigned

solid

sureStill

strongSilent

firmTaciturn

fastReserved

secureSoundless

stableCalm

staunchComposed

loyalTranquil

steadySerene

faithfulUnruffled

resoluteStationary

steadfastImmobile

sturdyIntense

reliableFierce

dependableVehement

trustworthyDeep 

Profound

suppressed

quenched

repressed

stifled

strangled

muffled

dampened 

deadened


	2. Chapter 2: Going

A/N: The usual. I own nothing. In fact, I own less than nothing. Except Miranda. She's my pal. I'm still holding hope for a couple more reviews...

  
  
  
  


The small rental car chugged up the roadway, barely topping 60 kilometers per hour. For Maggie the dog, however, it was the perfect speed. Her yellow ears flapped in time with her grinning lips as she craned her head even further out the window. Miranda, on the other hand, was not as thrilled. She had decided against flying, opting for the more scenic, if time-consuming drive. She had figured on making it to Edinburgh in under 6 hrs. Perhaps not.

  
  


The wedding itself had been lovely. Thoroughly Scottish in nature, it had been held outside under the (for once) blue sky, with the sun setting in the background. Even the weather dared not clash with Rachel's carefully laid plans. Miranda's pale green dress was stylish and simple, the high neck leaving her shoulders and arms bare. The only crisis occurred when the 4 yr old flower girl began projectile vomiting near her mother's car. Ever-prepared, Miranda swiftly lifted the wicker basket of yellow rose petals out of harm's way. The guests were then treated to the sight of a large, yellow lab trotting up the aisle strewing petals with joyful shakes of her head. Bystanders later swore she moved in time to the music.

In any case, Miranda's role had been fulfilled and she was now free to scope the eligible men, searching for the perfect person with whom she could feel awkward the following morning. 

***Too tall. Too short. Too Tory. Too- hmmmm, maybe just right.....*** Although normally a tad shy around men, she'd had enough champagne to give a needed boost of confidence. Heading over to the man in question, she carefully positioned herself within his direct line of sight. He moved away, slightly. Sighing, Miranda walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, a smile on his lips that faded as he saw her.

"Yes?" he asked, acting irritated.

"Ermm, I wondered if you might like to, ermm....well, dance?" she finished, smiling an inviting smile. The man pointedly looked her up and down and smirked.

"I don't think so, love. If I'd wanted a dog in my bed, I'd take that one," he said, nodding at Maggie. Miranda was stunned as he turned and left.

**You bloody bastard!** Angrily, she brushed at tears that threatened to run down her face. But her mortification was not to be denied. Feeling the tears trickling down, Miranda grabbed he shoulder bag and made her way swiftly out of the festivities tent and towards the hill, the lab trailing at her heels.

"How dare he?!? How the bloody fuck dare he?!?" she whispered aloud to herself. Sinking to her knees by a large boulder, she buried her face in her arms and let loose. Old insecurities died hard. Her entire life had been plagued by feelings of inadequacy. Not as attractive as the rest of the family, nor as successful, Miranda had always made a joke and laughed first, that she might not be laughed at. She knew she wasn't ugly. But whatever it was that made men stop and nudge each other was lacking. Through out school, university and beyond, she'd had plenty of dates. But she had made them happen. And 9 times out of ten, they had been cast-offs of Rachel.

The idea that this stupid, git of a man could make her feel this way, blinded her to the fact that she was not leaning against a boulder, but a large, cut stone rectangle, set in a half-circle. Had she noticed, she would have laughed, entertained by the superstitious fairy-tales always connected with these circles. Had she noticed, the laughter would have slowly stopped as the felt the world beginning to sway and spin. Screaming. Someone was screaming Lifting her tear-stained face, Miranda buried one hand into Maggie's neck-fur, partly to quiet the dog's whimpering, partly to steady herself. The screaming intensified, as did the spinning. In addition, a feeling of moving forward began to hit her, as if she were in a plane readying itself for takeoff. Faster, faster, louder, louder and then a CLAP.

Miranda opened her eyes and blinked several times. In front of her was a large valley. Enormous trees topped with massive leaves stretched for miles in every direction. Except she was looking down into the valley which meant....

"Oh hell," she said, almost conversationally, as she plunged off the narrow precipice where she'd stood. The screaming returned as the wind rushed by and the tree-tops rocketed towards her. She slammed into them, branches slashing and scraping. She heard a loud SNAP.

And then silence.

  
  


*********

  
  


As the day dawned, two figures could be seen perched atop large rocks, away from the main camp. As the others slumbered, the dwarf Gimli sat with Legolas, both marveling at their newly developing friendship.

"Had anyone told me five years ago, that I would break my morning fast with an Elf, I would have laughed at the fool. And yet here I find myself do just that. And gladly too, I might add," Gimli chortled, sliding the chunk of bread across to his friend.

"I, too, might have questioned the wisdom of one making such a bold statement. And yet, I cannot but be glad to be here with you. I had thought I was sure of myself and my world, yet I find both to be ever-changing. That an Elf and a Dwarf be friends!" Legolas shook his head ruefully, but smiled at Gimli in return. They continued to eat their morning meal, enjoying the rare respite from Hobbit-chatter. Legolas turned to offer Gimli water, when he was surprised to see the Dwarf staring hard at the nearby foothills.

"Do my eyes deceive? Legolas, put those hawk-eyes of yours to use and tell me if this Dwarf is aging too quickly. Is there a figure standing on the edge of that cliff?" he asked, pointing. Leaping to his feet, Legolas strained his eyes in the same direction and was amazed to see someone fall, even as he watched.

"He fell! Or jumped, I- I could not tell!" Legolas exclaimed in horror. "Come, we must go and see if he might yet live! You wake the others and bring them. I will go, swiftly, and see if there is ought I might do!" With that, he sprang into a run and disappeared into the trees. Gimli sighed and lumbered back towards the camp, where smoke was already rising as the Hobbits fixed their morning coffee.

"Ye should add more beans, else it willna wake us!" Pippin protested.

"You may like your morning brew to shock the life into you, but I prefer mine to be drinkable!" Merry answered, nudging Pip out of the way with his hip. Across the fire, Frodo and Sam enjoyed a companionable silence as the watched the cousins bicker. Behind them, Aragorn was already at work, rolling sleep-sacks, saddling his horse.

"A-a man, or a-a something fell from a cliff!" Gimli wheezed as he came up to the camp. "It was so sudden, as though he simply appeared and then fell! Legolas went to see if anything was to be done. We are to break camp and follow, " he sat heavily on a rock, breathing harshly through his mouth. Aragorn was already pulling his horse around and mounting it.

"In which direction did he go?" Aragorn asked sharply. Although the immediate danger from dealing with the Ring had ended, he had spent too many years leading to begin following. Understanding this, Gimli merely pointed, and accepted a cup as Aragorn tore off into the woods.

"I do hope whoever it is is ok," Sam added. "Unless it was a stray Orc," he amended thoughtfully. Frodo blanched at the word Orc, but pulled himself together and began rolling his sleep-sack.

"I suppose we'd best follow," he sais, glumly. He had hoped his days of adventuring were over. But perhaps not yet.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Soooooo? Please??? A review? Nothing terribly complicated. Just some thoughts!!


	3. Chapter 3: Arriving

Thanks for the reviews. I'm posting as I write and I'm still developing what's gonna happen. But her's more!!

  
  


Chapter 4

  
  


As the morning sun rose high into the sky, five small figures sat around the remains of a camp and contemplated recent events. Frodo hugged his hand to his chest, staring out into the greenery. Though the June weather was warm, even hot, the chill in his thoughts could not be warmed. Every time his eyes caught glimpse of his four-fingered hand, the memory of that terrible evening in the mountain assaulted him. Over and over he was reminded that he had not had the strength to throw the ring into the fire, that he too, had given in to the power of the ring. It was over, and yet it wasn't. He wanted nothing more than to return to his beloved Shire, to rest and forget. Yet in his mind dwelt heavy, dark thoughts that might never leave. In his dreams, he stared into that great fire and felt the weight of the ring on his hand pulling him, pulling him ever closer to the madness which had hidden in the farthest corners of his mind. The remnants of that madness still were there, unable to scale the wall he'd built, but waiting for the moment when weakness prevailed. He missed Bag Ends, and yet.... When he returned, would it be the same? Could he relax into the old ways and be at peace? 

His thoughts turned to Aragorn, his new King. A finer, more noble King could not be imagined and yet Frodo wondered at Aragorn's own reluctance to assume his birthright. The lines on Aragorn's face seemed deeper as he surveyed his kingdom and realized the work that must be done, ere all was made right. Was he reluctant to assume responsibility, or did he see the decay that would slowly creep into men? Did he see their future, where greed replaced nobility and cowardice replaced honor?

Nearly two weeks ago, Frodo had stood along side Sam, Pippin and Merry as they were honored for their deeds. He had felt neither pride nor honor, but relief that his task was finally complete. His eyes had followed a circle round his companions, noting their various expressions and wondering what might they be thinking. To his left stood Merry and Pippin, nearly 5 inches taller than Frodo remembered. But physical growth was not the only apparent difference in the two rigid Hobbits standing before him. On their faces were lines as had never been. Their eyes, once bright, merry and cheerful, now shone with tears. Knowledge of the world, of the evils that existed outside the comforting borders of the Shire had aged them. They were now warriors, dressed in armor, carrying swords. This saddened Frodo, for their innocence was lost.

Behind the Hobbits had stood Legolas and Gimli. Frodo smiled at the memory of the tall, elegant Elf standing next to the stout, grumpy Dwarf, a hand on the smaller male's shoulder. That these two, against all odds had become friends made Frodo ponder if not all changes had been for the worse. But even in these two, he detected a sense of loss. Both were battle-weary in a way neither had been before. Legolas, Frodo realized, had fought valiantly for the destruction of the ring, yet that very thing meant his people would diminish. How much conviction must it have taken? The Elf rarely revealed his emotions, nor were they often sought, Frodo realized. 

His faithful Sam, however, had not changed. Sam was loyal and steadfast in all matters be they great or small. 

**Does he know that his part in this whole play was much more important than my own?** Frodo wondered. He had yet to speak with Sam about that last night in Mt Doom. Frodo still felt shame, that he had betrayed his friend in the end, no matter that Sam did not believe this to be true. But it was Sam who had followed him blindly, without grumbling or weakness, never questioning Frodo, but instead offering support, comfort and unwavering friendship. Though he had never fought in his life, Sam had taken up a sword to defend that which he loved. No reward could offer him what he deserved.

In Gandalf, Frodo had sensed his own relief and also a sadness. For Gandalf, nothing had been so heart-rending as the knowledge that his master, his mentor had betrayed him. Though he hid it well, Gandalf grieved for the loss of his friend. Though Saruman still lived, the creative, wise wizard was gone, in his stead was left a wicked, husk of a man. When Aragorn had announced his plan to return with them to Rivendell, Gandalf had smiled, aware of the reason. He assured Aragorn he would be in Rivendell by Year's end, that he might be witness to Aragorn's wedding. In the meantime, however, his doings were his own and he had disappeared the very next day.

The remaining seven had then set off for Rivendell; Legolas with the intent of journeying on to Mirkwood with Gimli, whom he had promised a new tour of the Elven Kingdom, one in which chains and dungeons were not part. The Hobbits longed to return to their homes, their hearths and their quiet way of life. All had agreed to return to Rivendell to be guests of honor at Aragorn's wedding to Arwen. Arwen had requested that the wedding be held in Rivendell and both had decided that their new life together would begin in the new year, in the new Age. And so they traveled.

  
  


Aragorn was not surprised to find Legolas not far from the cliff, perched atop a large rock, waiting for him. Aragorn was now King, and still leader of their Fellowship. Smiling at Legolas briefly, the two quickly and efficiently made ever widening circles, searching for the body. As Legolas bounded over a large cropping of rocks, he was surprised by a large yellow wolf who stood near a tree, whimpering.

**Not a wolf, a dog, ** Legolas thought to himself. The creatures were kept by both Hobbits and Humans, he knew, though he himself had had little to do with the breed. The dog growled as Legolas approached, then began wagging his tail, as if sensing no danger in the Elf. Running his hands over the yellow pelt, Legolas realized the whimpering stemmed from a large thorn caught in the dog's great front paws. As he carefully worked it free, his sharp ears caught a faint call.

"Aragorn!" he cried and followed the call, accompanied by a new friend.

  
  


As Legolas found the dog, Aragorn placed his hand on a low-hanging branch to steady himself and was startled t to see it covered in red when he pulled away. Blood. His eyes caught sight of a figure huddled near an enormous tree.

**A woman, ** he was astounded to note. Her head has pressed down onto her up drawn knees, her feet scratched and bare. Soundlessly he moved towards her, not wishing to startle her, when her head jerked up. He took a step back in revulsion, for staring at him was the most hideous human he had ever laid eyes on.

"Legolas!" he shouted, halting, unsure.

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  


The world swam before her eyes as Miranda cautiously opened first the left, then the right.

"I am never drinking again!" she declared devotedly to herself. What a night! At least, she assumed it had been a 'what a night'- type of night. In all honesty she didn't quite remember what had happened.

**Water. Really need water, ** she thought and started to sit up. Big mistake. Huge. Every inch of her body began screaming. Miranda groaned and lay still. He shoulder was now throbbing hot and red. In her mind's eye she saw it as a red basketball, pulsating every time her heart beat. Her middle parts felt as though they'd been pummeled by something large and heavy. As her hands carefully drifted up her body, she noted huge scratches and gaping holes in the dress. When her hands reached her face, she pulled them away in shock, then slowly returned. It was bumpy! Her face had turned bumpy! Running her hands from ear to ear, she was relieved to realize it was dried blood. Dried blood?!? Suddenly, as though someone had hit fast forward, the events of the previous night returned at break-neck speed. The rude asshole, her flight up the hill, the strange screaming and finally, the fall.

She was lucky to be alive. The enormous leaf covered branches had broken her high fall, but had done plenty of damage. Taking stock, Miranda realized her left angle was either broken or sprained, her shoulder was most likely out of joint and every inch of her was covered in gashes. And she was in a forest. With a very muddy floor. And trees much larger than any she'd seen before, even the redwoods she'd seen in her trip to California.

**Where the hell am I?** she thought and, against her better judgement, she sat up, groaning in agony. Wedging her back against a trunk, she realized her horrors weren't over. A large, hairy black bug was slowly making its way up her left leg. The one with the hurt ankle. Tears began trickling out of her eyes and she watched its progress helplessly. Suddenly a hot anger overcame her and she brushed it off with her right hand, while using her left hand and good leg to push herself away, pain searing through her collarbone from her shoulder. 

Her predicament struck her as she struggled to breathe.

**I'm uh...pretty badly hurt and god knows where! What do I do?** she thought. After a half hour of sitting, tears again fell down her face and she brushed at them angrily. Her hands came away red. A sharp intake of breathe made her lift her head. Ten feet away stood a very tall man, wearing what appeared to be a black leather trench-coat. His hair was dark and long, and on his face were deep lines of worry, yet he appeared to be under 40. It was expression that startled Miranda the most. He was staring at her with unconcealed revulsion. Then he opened his mouth and shrieked a strange word.

**Fuck. I've landed in the crazy-people world!** Miranda thought. Then screamed as he began moving towards her.


	4. Chapter 4: Meeting

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed! Yay! As for the time line, I have to admit to a small goof. I had written the first two chapters then got stuck, so I reread the end of RotK and remembered Arwen came to Gondor to be married. So I had to do some revisions, which I used Frodo-thought for. It follows the movie and books until May 1, 1419 (SR) when the celebration was held. Then it continues a bit differently, in that Arwen requests that Aragorn come to Rivendell for their marriage, and since it's more or less on the way home for the rest.... Having left the City of Gondor almost two weeks ago, I place them somewhere west of Helm's Deep in a random forest. All of the reasons for the differences will be clear farther on. I didn't see a need to mark this as AU since it was only the last few chapters that are alternative. I chose this setting because I wanted to look at how the Fellowship changed the characters and because I wanted my own story. Merely placing a new character into the original story, and then using original dialogue is not what I wanted (although no offense to anyone who has done this). So thanks and keep reading!

  
  


Chapter 4

  
  


The sun was now quite high overhead, and Gimli, used to the cool darkness of the mines of his homeland, was sweaty and uncomfortable. The Hobbits were also experiencing discomfort as they dutifully loaded the pack animals, manfully ignoring their hungry stomachs demanding elevenses. As a light wind began blowing, the five travelers set off to follow Aragorn and Legolas.

"You don't think it really was an left-over Orc, do you Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked conversationally.

"No, Sam," Frodo answered. "Sting would have told me. Besides, Gandalf said most of the Orcs not killed in battle were being rounded up by Rohan soldiers. I do not know what they plan to do after rounding them up, though."

"Hmmph!" grumbled Gimli. "I could tell you what a Dwarven-Thain would do with the lot! And all I would need is my trusty axe!" he added menacingly. The effect was lost on the four Hobbits, however, who had grown used to the threats and talk of the Dwarf. 

"Mayhap we could lasso the lot, and use em in the gardens as pack animals!" Merry added, only half jokingly. He had not yet forgotten the screams of his fellow fighters when the Orcs had cruelly slashed them through. Frodo also preferred to avoid the topic of Orcs.

"D'ye think the Shire has heard of the goin-ons here yet?" Pippin asked hopefully. "I bet the lasses wouldna mind hearin the tale from one of the leadin characters!" he added, nudging Sam lasciviously. "Especially cert'n lasses tha already have a.....weeel, what ye might call an 'interest' in the story!"

"More like she'll yell at me for leaving without saying 'good-bye,'" Sam sighed. "She's probably forgotten my name already. Rosie's not one to stay alone long," he said glumly. Frodo, seeing his friend start down an unhappy path, placed a comforting hand his shoulder.

"I'm sure when we've returned home, she'll be there to greet you with open arms!" Frodo cried. This made Sam smile for a while, for he trusted Frodo and thought him to be quite clever and knowledgeable. Reaching a large outcropping of rocks, the five caught sight of Aragorn and Legolas near a towering tree, apparently talking to someone.

"Shhhh..."Aragorn said softly, "We aren't going to hurt you. Are you very badly injured from your fall?"

The woman in question, for she appeared human, stared at him wildly, her face bruised, swollen and bloody. Her legs were drawn up to her chest protectively, yet she leaned slightly sideways from the tree, her arm hanging limply to one side. Aragorn's earlier revulsion had been tempered as he realized that she was not horribly disfigured as he had first thought, but hurt. The strange scars were actually trails of blood, he noticed. She made no sign of having heard his question, but glared at him and Legolas alternately. Placing his hands low, palms up, Aragorn made eye-contact with the stranger and slowly advanced, going carefully down on one knee several feet away.

"I am Aragorn, King of Gondor. How came you to be on this cliff and to fall so suddenly?" he asked. Again, she gave no evidence of having understood his question. He thought perhaps she was a traveler from far afield and spoke no Westron, so again he asked in every language known to him, but she merely watched him nervously, one hand reaching slowly for a large stick lying within her reach.

Stepping up behind Aragorn, Legolas took his first look at the woman and winced at the damage done to her. Suddenly he was rudely shoved aside as the yellow dog made a dash for the woman. Her expression changed marginally and she cried out, 

"Maggie!" Aragorn looked at Legolas, but this strange word meant nothing to either of them. The dog began enthusiastically lapping at the woman's face and she cried out in pain. Without thinking, Aragorn lunged at the animal, but quickly retreated when large fangs slashed at his hand. The woman said more strange words and then animal sat quietly at her feet, growling softly at the strange males.

  
  


"Aragorn! Legolas! What've ye found?" Pippin called out as the five came into view. They stopped short, surprised that their Orc was actually a human woman.

"Is she alright?" Sam asked, concern etching his forehead into lines. It was quite unusual, he knew, for a lone human woman to be this far from any human settlements. Her clothing was also different, she appeared to be dressed in naught but a shift with large rents in it. One foot was bare, the other was covered in a dress-slipper with a strange, pointy sort of heel. She was covered head to foot in gashes and cuts, her hair caught up with bits of leaves, twigs and mud.

"She does not appear to speak any languages we know," Aragorn said softly. "Or else she had been struck dumb from her fall."

"And yet she commanded the dog well enough," Legolas said. "Perhaps she has traveled farther than we first thought." They all stared at her and one by one spoke in languages they knew.

  
  


*****

They were gibbering at her. The tall, dark-haired man and even taller blonde man spoke to her, but it obviously wasn't English. Or French. Or German. Or Spanish.

**Bloody hell!** Miranda thought to herself. **In the fairy tales the strange, handsome men always speak English. Just my luck.** The sight of Maggie had overjoyed her, but the happy face-bath had sent shivers of pain raging through her. The trench-coat man made a grab for Maggie's tail, but hastily retreated. 

**Not the smartest move, grabbing a strange dog's tail, ** she thought. She switched views to the blond man and realized he was wearing leggings and funny pointy-toed shoes. And had what looked to be a bow strapped to his back. And he had pointy ears.

**A Vulcan! I'm dreaming. Yes, that's it. I've fallen asleep and am dreaming.** Suddenly, other voices sounded and to her surprise five more people came into view.

**Ahh. The midgets. So it's one of those dreams!** Miranda giggled, slightly hysterically. But on closer inspection, she noticed their oddly large and grotesquely hairy feet. Four of the new people were small and curly-haired, while the fifth was someone taller, although still short, and looked exactly like a miniature Viking. She stopped her musings as a word penetrated her vaguely feverish musings. They had all been talking at her in strange tongues, but she thought something the Viking said sounded familiar. She looked at him and pointed with her good hand.

As the daughter of a linguist (and former Jesuit), Miranda had spent her childhood traveling from one remote place to another. Consequently she spoke several languages fluently and had a good grasp of language and language structure. Her father had often marveled at the ease with which she picked up new languages, this being virtually the only approval ever offered. 

"She understands Old-Speak, I think!" Gimli crowed. "'Tis a very old Dwarven language, usually reserved for formal occasions," he barked at her in this old speech, but her face fell (as much as it was able) because it was still gibberish. Gimli's own face fell in disappointment.

**Right then, time to stop pansying around,** she thought resolutely.

"My name is Miranda O'Leary, PhD. from London, England, or rather born in Hertfordshire, (don't tell) and grew up in several places around the world. Err....Earth, that is. Because this apparently isn't earth. Because I am obviously dreaming!" She nodded affirmatively to her own declaration and was immediately sorry, as agony ripped from elbow to shoulder to clavicle. 

Four brown heads popped up. They hadn't understood the odd utterances of the woman, but all four had easily recognized 'Shire.' They were not the only ones.

"Shire!" Legolas exclaimed. "She said something about the Shire! Do you think she's a messenger?" he asked doubtfully.

"Messenger from whom? We know not the language she speaks," Aragorn replied thoughtfully. The seven residents of Middle-Earth began discussing her possible origins as the sun reached its zenith, and slowly began to sink in the western sky. Miranda was becoming increasingly exhausted. She had no idea how long she'd been whipped around through whatever portal (no, her mind shied away from that word), whatever THING she'd come. Her hurt shoulder had swelled to twice its original size, and she noticed hideous blue and purple bruises forming along her ankle and lower legs. Her head was pounding, a heavy, dull thudding that resonated every time her heart beat. Trench-coat was currently shaking his head at something Vulcan had said, while both ignored Viking who was jammering away and gesticulating violently. The midgets were also embroiled in their own argument. Or at least two of them were. She closed her eyes in pain and began drifting off.

Frodo, having remained silent this while, studied the woman. He noticed her inappropriate clothing, but focused mostly on her face. She had seemed so frightened, he realized. Of them. And she was in pain, his heart told him. He wanted to make things easier for her and broke into the other's discussion.

"I think she may have fainted," he said unobtrusively. "She may be injured seriously," he added. Aragorn and Legolas felt shame creep into their hearts. They had been so caught up in the oddness of the woman appearing, they hadn't considered her injury.

Being an Elf, Legolas had been brought up with a fair bit of healing, as had Aragorn. Kneeling next to her, swift hands ran over extremities, searching for broken limbs. 

"Her shoulder is disjointed," Aragorn decided. Together, dark head to light, they arranged themselves against her, using their own bodies to push her joint into place. A harsh hiss issued from the woman's lips and whatever color evident beneath the bruises on her face, vanished as she fainted, truly, this time.

Carefully bandaging what they might, the group agreed it would be best to ride on and make it to Rivendell as fast as possible so that healing might occur. As only Legolas and Aragorn were large enough to carry the woman with them, and Legolas also had Gimli, it was agreed Aragorn would take charge of the woman. This plan was short lived as his war-horse shied and bucked when the yellow dog came near. It refused to leave her side, so it was finally agreed that Gimli would ride with Aragorn and Legolas would take the women. His own Arod, quieted by his master, easily ignored the canine. As they mounted, Pippin caught sight of a large leather bag lying forgotten in the brush. He went over to investigate, but was immediately called to join the rest who were some ways away. Grabbing the sack, he flung it on top of his own bags and rode off to meet the others.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5: Cannibalism?

Chapter 5

  
  


Although it was June, nights were quite cool, emphasized by the darkness left by a moon covered in clouds. The seven members of the Fellowship continued riding, but slowly, as their ponies had to carefully pick out each step, the darkness around them total.

Carefully holding his bundle, Legolas guided Arod around gopher holes and rocks with quiet words. Shifting her weight to the right, he again wondered at the heat emanating from her body. Elves had traditionally preferred warmer weather, although the cold never bothered them.

**Until now,** Legolas thought grimly. With the fall of Sauron and the destruction of the Ring, he had noticed a change immediately. First it had been quite slight, gradually intensifying. He was cold. Only when out in the bright day sun did his blood warm. Nights such as these caused him to wrap his Elven cloak tightly around his body, tucking in the loose ends. Coldness was not the only change.

Elves lived for several thousands of years. At some point during that time, they often entered a sort of dream like existence. They were aware of the world around them and could be ready in an instant, but the world also seemed to disappear. There was no future, no past, only now. Legolas himself could remember entire years spent without moving, lost in contemplation, in thought. His body had always felt light, as though it could float away. Suddenly, with the destruction of the Ring, the past had rushed back into his consciousness. Before, memories, although always in his mind, had lain dormant, all but forgotten. With the fall of the Ring, these memories had come flooding back, filling his thoughts with all the pain and joy he had once felt. Somewhere in time he had felt his emotions lessening. The quick-to-laugh and hot-headed boy of his youth had grown into a man. But through it all there had been a yearning. He had wanted to feel again. He wanted that rush of emotion, of anger, of hate, of love, of desire. When his father, King of the Mirkwood Elves requested that he go to Rivendell as a representative, he had swiftly agreed. It was as though he had begun to awaken from a long sleep. Once again, he felt his blood singing through his veins, when he stopped to listen to the music of the trees and forest it was fresh and new. Now, he still felt alive and ready, but the world seemed harsh, too real. The West called and he listened. Perhaps it was time to go. Perhaps he had fought his last battle, had his fleeting touch of glory. Long ago, Legolas had accepted that it was not in his future to be a hero. In battle, that right had always gone to his father, the King. In the Fellowship, it had been Frodo, the Ring-bearer or Aragorn, the leader, even Merry and Pippin had earned their recognition. Though he had fought admirably and bravely, he was no hero and tried to accept his place. When it was time, he would go quietly into the West. But for now, the bundle in his arms held his attention. She was so very warm, enough to warm him as well. He studied her face, searching for clues of her ancestry and origins. They had not taken the time to wash away much of the blood, so he could not entirely make out her features, but they were obviously human. They lacked the delicate, elegant lines of Elves. Looking down, he checked to see that the yellow dog followed faithfully. The animal was muscular and well-fed, so they could not have been wandering very long. He did find it curious that she had no provisions with her, and found her clothing quite an odd choice for trekking through the forest. Had she intended to jump, he wondered, or had she fallen? He looked down at the snub, turned up nose (rather Hobbit like, he mused) and full, wide mouth above a strong chin. He was intrigued.

  
  


*******

  
  


Hours later, the seven companions sat by a fire, listening to another Elven tale told in song. The Hobbits listened raptly, their eyes shining, while even the gruff Dwarf paid close attention. Aragorn paced a bit away, keeping watch, although for what, he could not say. Miranda lay prone on a sleep-sack near Gimli, her head pillowed on a folded cloak. Nearly ten hours had passed since she had fainted, and she awoke feeling ravenous. Remembering the last time she woke, she lay very still, breathing deeply. As her eyes focused, she realized she was looking at the Viking. It hadn't been a dream. Looking around surreptitiously, she saw that Vulcan was singing (singing?!) In an odd, vowelly language. She listened for a bit, surprised to her the 'th' theta quite often.

**Only English and Gaelic use the theta.....huh...** she thought to herself. She tried to roll over and realized she was stuck.

"Hey! What the hell? Untie me this instant, you...you....fascists!" she shouted for lack of a better term. Struggling, she was pleased to realize her shoulder no longer hurt although the rest of her still ached quite a lot. She stopped struggling. The midgets were eyeing her with obvious distrust, while Viking had his ham-like fist wrapped around an axe, though he eyed her more with pity than with fear. 

Legolas quickly understood what was causing her distress and quickly loosed the cloak which had been wrapped tightly around her. He held it up for her to see, then handed it to her carefully.

"Oh. Right, then. Just keeping me warm and all, weren't you? And I'm a right arse. Sorry," she prattled, feeling stupid. They all continued to eye her nervously, so she sat back carefully and smiled a bit. No sense in angering the natives, after all. They didn't look like cannibals, but you never know.... A soft yap near her ear brought her quick relief. Maggie was still there.

**Not sure what we're doing here, old girl, but at least you came with!** she thought. The others had relaxed when they were certain she was in no condition to attack and had begun to talk amongst themselves again, this time the speech was the one they'd used earlier when they'd been arguing. She listened closely, trying to pick out individual words and get a sense of the structure. But her head was still throbbing. She rubbed it gingerly and noticed that Vulcan was watching her. 

**Well he's certainly a cutie,** she thought idly. **A pretty face and even prettier body. 'All the better to hide a wicked heart',** she misquoted to herself. Several bad break-ups had caused her to distrust very attractive men. She didn't quite understand what a gorgeous man would want with her, since he could generally have his pick. Beautiful women were not in short supply in London. Her father and her brothers had all been very attractive men. And they were monsters. Well, perhaps not monsters, but sub-evil, mean creatures. She had always thought like goes with like. A plain woman fits best with a plain man. However, she was certainly free to stare back and enjoy the view. He was quite tall, with a finely boned face and long blonde hair. That, surprisingly, did not make him look either girlie or like he belonged in a hair-metal band. She also noticed how easily he sat, his legs folded underneath. On any other man, this position would have seemed affected and rather nancy-boyish, but with him, it just looked relaxed.

Uh-oh. Vulcan had stood and was moving towards her, a hesitant smile on his face.

**What does he want- oh,** she relaxed as she realized he was bringing her what looked like food. Some sort of meat and carrots. Unless they were trying to poison her.

Legolas noticed her hesitance in eating and made eating motions with his hands. She still looked doubtful.

"Maybe she believes we have poisoned her food," Gimli rumbled incisively. "After all, we have kidnaped her and 'tied' her limbs," he joked. Using his own knife, he pared a strip of meat from her plate and made a production out of eating, showing his large white teeth and patting his stomach. Swallowing, he smiled at her.

Miranda was surprised when Viking seemed to read her mind, but his smile and eyes were astoundingly warm. She smiled back and began eating.

Legolas watched the exchange with a light frown. Why had she trusted Gimli, and not him? Quite odd. After dinner, they settled back into story-telling mode, this time, one of the midgets was speaking and whatever he said, it must have been quite funny. At least, that's what it seemed like. Gradually, Miranda realized Trenchcoat was watching her. She'd noticed when he'd returned and Vulcan had disappeared. Trenchcoat smiled gently at her and touched his hand to his temple.

"Aragorn," he said, tapping his head. Huh?

"Ara-goan," Miranda repeated stupidly, tapping her own head. She hoped she wasn't agreeing to sell her body or anything of the like. Trenchcoat shook his head, still smiling and brought both hands to his chest, tapping himself,

"Aragorn." Ahhh! Now she got it. Tapping her own chest, she said,

"Miranda." Then she pointed at him and repeated, "Ara-goan," with a questioning look, which was hopefully universal.

Aragorn looked relieved and nodded. The others had noticed and were watching the exchange. He pointed at her and stumbled over, 

"Meer-anda!" She nodded and they grinned at each other, stupidly. Pointing to each in turn, Aragorn introduced the Hobbits and Gimli. Miranda repeated each name and smiled at each person. Frodo, Pippin and Merry (Mary?) had smiled back, while Sam blushed and Gimli bowed. For moment they all sat around looking at each other as the moment got more and more uncomfortable. Then Sam shyly tugged at the cloak wrapped round her shoulders. When she looked at him, he raised his eyebrows and tapped the dog whose (traitorous) head was lolling in his lap, although she was large enough, the hobbit could have ridden her. 

**This midget- no, Sam,** she corrected herself, ** must have a natural affinity to animals.** She'd never seen Maggie take to a man or boy so easily. But watching the curly-haired midget lovingly scratch the dog's ears, she recognized a kindred-soul. Anyone who loved animals had to be all right. The rest of the night was spent with Maggie pointing at things and the others telling her what it was in their language. By the time they fell into their sleepsacks, she was exhausted and her ankle was throbbing again. What she wouldn't give for an aspirin!!

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


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Might be weekend before I update again, but keep reading! I have a sneaking suspicion I'm no longer in control here. The characters seem to want to tell the story their way....sigh.....what can you do? My little character piece seems to be taking on a novel-like appearance. 


	6. Chapter 6: Racing Against Time

A/N Another note...Thank you for the reviews, O beloved readers. I originally planned this to be pretty short, maybe 7-8 chapters. But then things progressed and as I was sitting in lecture the other day, daydreaming, I started writing down thoughts, which began to take a cohesive form which has now turned into a time line. And then I had a great idea for the ending, so I wrote that and have been revising. But I'm developing a plot, which isn't so easy to begin with, then I have to format it to canon as much as possible and figure out reasonable ways for characters to get into the situations I want them to be in, without stupid plot devices or random "they suddenly appeared in Imladris!" Anyway, there it is. For the continuation of this story thoughts will continued to be shown by **, since I can't figure out how to get italics to transfer (if anyone wants to fill me in, that'd be swell!) Normal "quotes" will designate Westron/Tolkien speech and `this` will be English. Hope it isn't too confusing! Onwards, soldiers!

  
  
  
  


Far away, a grey figure with flowing robes astride a white steed flew over hill and valley, crossing mountain and stream swiftly. The rider pulled up suddenly, easily remaining saddled as the large animal pranced skittishly from side to side. The white lather coating the horses hide and the soft lips covered in foam gave tell of a long, hard journey. The rider scanned the horizon, searching urgently, then, as suddenly as he stopped, urged the horse on. They moved towards the mountains, away from the morning sun.

  
  


*****

  
  


Miranda rolled over, groaning. Never one for camping, this sleeping on the ground thing was not getting her highest marks. As she yawned and stretched (and wondered if something died in her mouth in the middle of the night), she noticed her torn dress was about to make the morning a little happier for her seven male companions. Still dressed in her wedding frock, she looked more like the poor little match-girl from the stories, covered in soot and dressed in rags. Her feet were bare, and miraculously (she thought), still covered in unchipped wine-colored polish. She wiggled the toes on her good foot, admiring the effect, as her feet were the only part not covered in hideous bruises. 

Her scalp was suspiciously itchy, so she indulged in a good scratch, since the others were still asleep. Yawning, she turned to grab the other blanket tossed off in the night and let out a soft EEP! Legolas sat on a tree stump watching her. When her eyes met his, he smiled and she felt a deep blush rise up her throat and face as she realized he'd seen her admiring her foot, scratching and yawning.

**Oh yeah. Quite lady-like old girl,** she grumbled to herself. Rising lithely to his feet, he crossed the short distance between them and crouched again near her feet. She watched him warily as he carefully picked up her injured ankle and felt it with his fingertips. Although it was a bit presumptuous of him to touch her without so much as a 'by-your-leave,' she found herself fascinated with his hands and arms. 

She was a self-confessed 'hands' woman. While other women watched bums and flies, she loved strong, wide-palmed hands with square fingers; a strong, thick forearm with visible muscles made her knees weak. The hands grasping her ankle were pale with long, tapering fingers on a hairless hand, attached to pale, narrow-wristed forearms. There was no illusion of femininity, however, as they were large and capable, with veins rising beneath the skin.

**Ooh! That's nice!** she thought, closely her eyes in pleasures his fingertips traced the arch of her foot to the ankle and a warm feeling spread though her foot, ankle and calf. **It's almost, hmmmm.....almost sexual!** That thought brought her flying out of her reverie and back to earth as she jerked he foot back from him, wincing as a shooting pain drove up her leg. He was pushed back, but maintained his balance in a cat-like twist of his abdomen. He looked at her curiously, but didn't attempt to retake her foot. She smiled at him politely and drew her legs up to her chest.

**Pecker. I knew he was too good to be true! Why do the pretty ones always have to be gay or have foot fetishes?** She sighed and noticed the rest of the troop were slowly wakening. The midgets, she noticed, hadn't even rolled out of their sacks as they dug around for something to eat. Gimli, or Viking, as she still thought of him, offered her a strange cracker-like thing, wrapped in leaves. It actually quite resembled the Host of the Catholic Masses of her childhood. She nibbled at it and was surprised to feel an immediate warmth and energy flood her body.

**Better than whisky at warming you up!** she thought and watched the others putter around. Viking helped her roll her bag and watched for moment as she struggled with the blanket around her shoulders. Smiling, her removed the belt from his own waist and handed it to her, helping her to wrap it round her waist to hold the blanket in a sort of poncho-like cloak. Even at the smallest notch, it was still too big for her, but wouldn't fit around her twice. She and Gimli fought with the material, bunching it up and trying everything they could think of to get it to stat. By the end, she was giggling and he was chuckling, as she did a sort of one-legged pirouette, while holding on to a tree.

Across camp, Legolas watched his friend with the woman as they struggled to clothe her. He was pleased that she felt at ease with the Dwarf, but was unsure why she seemed as skittish as a young falcon around him. Human women tended to be in awe of his beauty and grace, an issue he marked, but did not concern himself with, for few human women were skilled story-tellers, in his experience. Then, an idea came to him and he removed himself to the Hobbits.

  
  


Crouching behind a convenient bush, Miranda balanced on one foot and pulled the Hobbit clothing on, with difficulty. She had been astounded when Legolas had brought them over. It was a sweet, thoughtful move. The pants were baggy in the waist and tight in the bum and thighs, but only reached her knee. The blouse gaped across her breasts, but the vest covered in up nicely. There was nothing to be done about shoes and Miranda caught sight of herself in a small pool off the stream they'd stopped by.

**Bloody hell! I look like an eighties Trendy!** she thought. **Just need an enormous gold belt to tighten over my poet shirt and I could start singing with Bowie!** She sighed, but decided it was better than flashing everyone.

  
  


"How long, do ye think, until we reach Rivendell? I've worn thes' clothes here fer nearly two weeks an' that wi' no baths! An' its bin ages since I've had a good mushroom!" Pippin sighed wistfully, packing up his sleep-sack and jamming bread into his mouth. To his right, three other Hobbits sighed wistfully as well, mouths watering as they dreamed of the rich, meaty taste of ripe mushrooms.

"It has been too long," Frodo agreed. 

Nearby, Aragorn listened to them reminisce about favorite mushroom dishes with a smile on his face. He marveled anew at the remarkable fortitude of his small companions. For nearly ten months they had been away from friends and family, from home and hearth, yet aside from an odd grumble, they were hearty and good-natured.

"Perhaps Lord Elrond will let taste of his secret crop of red mushrooms," Aragorn said mysteriously.

"Red mushrooms? Who's ever heard of red mushrooms?" Merry asked, intrigued. Pippin raised his eyes to the skies, as if asking nature's help in understanding his thick cousin.

"Evr'one knows about th' red mushrooms!" he said dramatically. "They errr.....they're good fer th'.....they put heer on yer chest!" he finished triumphantly and looked at Aragorn for confirmation. Aragorn nodded and smiled conspiratorially.

"I've heard tell that Dwarfish lasses are particularly found of them," he said in a low voice, eyes twinkling. The guffaws of Merry and Pippin caused the rest of the group to look over at them. Miranda watched as the midgets nudged each other and mounted their ponies. She noticed how careful Sam was with Frodo, acting very protective the slighter Hobbit, fussing over him like a mother hen. Suddenly home-sickness hit her and she thought of Rachel, now happily sunning herself on a beach somewhere, and of her other friends going about their daily lives.

**I wonder if they've missed me yet, or if they think I've run away with some Scotsman? Of course, I do look lovely in tartan,** she mused, laughing to herself. Suddenly, it struck her with clarity: the only way home must be through the rock circle again. And here she was traveling three days already away from it. She needed to go back, but with no food or water, no compass or map and a broken or sprained ankle, she wasn't going anywhere unless a taxi miraculously appeared in the forest. And since her understanding of their speech was no better now than yesterday, she was certainly not going to be watching television or soaking in a hot bath anytime soon. It seemed the best course of action to go where she was taken for now, until her ankle healed. 

**After all, no one has tried anything yet. Maybe they're going to make be their queen...." she laughed to herself as she was helped up in front of Legolas. She still was not quite comfortable with him, and held herself stiff, as he wrapped one arm around her, repositioning her in the saddle against him. She was surprised by the strength in his arm, which was belied by his slender appearance. Her stomach did a funny dropping-thing as he wedged her bottom more firmly between his thighs and gave a slight flick of the reins.

**Hmmm....maybe foot fetishes aren't so bad when you get this with the rest.** she thought as she drifted of to sleep, slowly relaxing in his arms. His general ease and composure made her nervous, but the support of his body and warm cloak around her, made her sleepy. There was a nagging pain under her right breast, but as it was an area she couldn't see with strange contortions or a mirror, she chalked it up to bruises, perhaps caused by the underwire of her bra.

**So that's Vicky's Secret...**she chuckled to herself in her sleep. Legolas looked down at the sound and wondered at the small smile on her lips. 

The nagging pain was not, in fact, a bruise, but a very small puncture wound, caused by a sliver of wood almost three inches long stuck inside her. It had been overlooked by the 'first aide'givers, as they hadn't wished to intrude on her person. This tiny wound had become infected, and by the third day, she was hot, her forehead burning with fever.

As the party stopped for the evening, Miranda was asleep, her face flushed. Legolas carefully lowered her to the earth, pausing in alarm as his hand brushed her cheek. Her skin was remarkably hot. Having never been around sick people, he was at a loss. He knew what a fever was, and that races other than Elves experienced them, but knew not how to correct it. He called to Aragorn, who recognized the signs of infection, but could not find its source.

"We are yet seven days from Imladris. We can try a tea, made from curing-leaves, but if that fails, there is nought else we can do," Aragorn spoke in a low voice. 

"My own knowledge of healing is scarce. Alas, it has been long since I have been called upon to heal, and even long ago I was no healer. My gifts lie in those of causing injury, not in curing it," Legolas answered.

"Then we must make haste. Let them sleep but a few hours and we shall move swiftly, before the sun rises. For now, I will find the curing-leaves." The Ranger disappeared into the dusk, in search of a certain plant known for its fever-lowering juices. The Hobbits fetched water and Sam sat near Miranda, carefully sponging her forehead with a bit of old clothe. By now, she was delirious and thrashing, groaning and crying. Sam could not understand her words, but recognized the tears on her face and pain in her voice. His soft heart wept for this woman, so far from home and in the company of strangers. Even with thirty-six winters to his credit, he wished for his mother, for the soft, milky-smelling woman who could fix all pains and cure all ills.

"She'd know what to do," he whispered to Miranda. The tea was made upon Aragorn's return, but helped nothing and by dawn the next day, it was decided they would ride as swiftly as possible, hoping Lord Elrond would be able to help. As they left in the early morning light, Frodo was reminded of his own harrowing flight toward Rivendell. Although he too, had been delirious and remembered little of the trip, he had vague images of a tall blond Elf speaking softly to him, urging the horse ever faster. He had awakened happily and healthily in Rivendell. He hoped the same might happen for Miranda.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7: Bag of Goodies

Chapter 7

  
  


Lord Elrond stood at the window, watching daily life continue as normal about Imladris. The sky was bluer and brighter than it had been in the past year, and he knew the reason why. Riders had brought news from Gondor, songs were sung about the brave Fellowship who valiantly brought down the Dark Lord. From the north came tales of horror and of valor, for terrible waste had been laid to the lush forests of Mirkwood, and now great black scars covered the land. But still, Celeborn and Thranduil's peoples had fought courageously and beaten back their foes. The shadow that had covered Mirkwood had risen and once again the name Greenwood graced the woods north of the mountains. 

As he watched from the window, his daughter came into his sight, carrying her weaving. She smiled gently, as was her wont, but his fathers' eyes did not miss her glance to the east, ever searching for a certain man's return. Though they were assured of Estel's safety, she would not rest till he was within her embrace. Catching her father's gaze, Arwen lifted a hand in greeting, which halted abruptly in the air as trumpets sounded. Riders had been sighted east of the city! Elrond hurried from his chambers, allowing hope to cross his stern features. They were returned!

"O father!" Arwen called out joyfully. "Riders were sighted, four horses, and six riders! Finally, they have returned!" Elves began appearing on balconies, leaning out of windows and hurrying down to the main courtyard.

"Seven riders!" A Herald called out as he swung elegantly down from his horse. Bowing briefly before them, he explained his words. "Six ride of their own power, one rider appears sick or unconscious, or...." he frowned, unsure whether to voice his concerns. Elrond understood, but afforded himself no squeamishness, 

"Or dead," he finished quietly. The joy on Arwen's face faded and fear marred her delicate features. Without a word, she turned and departed to find her horse to go to meet the riders. Lord Elrond maintained a dispassionate countenance and watched his daughter go. Though their news spoke of the coronation of Elessar, new King of Gondor, there was much that might have occurred in the trip from Minas Tirith to Imladris. 

Arwen returned astride her horse, but got no further than the courtyard before the riders appeared, wearily leading their ponies. Leading them was Aragorn, his face creased with worry, exhaustion and grime, but his head was held high and his back straight, as befitted his status. For the first time in her long life, Arwen felt faint as relief flooded through her body. She longed to go to him, to throw herself in his arms and never let her go, but he was King now, and there were formalities that must be observed. She watched as Aragorn approached her father, for the first time as an equal.

Elrond also felt great relief at the appearance of Elessar, but relief warred with resentment. This was the man who would take his greatest treasure. Though he had raised this man, loved him as his own son, Arwen would always be his favorite child and this man meant to take her from him. Gravely, he returned the formal bow presented him, then allowed a glad smile to cross his face and embraced his foster-son and soon to be son-in-law. Taking the sceptre of Annuminas, he returned it to its rightful owner, then took his daughter's hand and placed it within that of Aragorn. Then he stood back and all watched joyously as Aragorn and Arwen were reunited.

"I feared I had lost you, my love," Arwen whispered into his ear. Aragorn smiled as her breathe brushed his ear as she spoke in the Elvish tongue.

"Never!" he whispered back. "In this world and the next, we are bound. I missed you, beloved; I have held your image before my eyes and your voice in my ear these past months. Only the knowledge that you would be here has kept me going." Kissing sweetly, they were oblivious to the muted cheers offered by Elves and Halflings alike. Clearing his throat, Elrond turned to offer his commends to the rest of the travelers. 

"Gimli, son of Gloin! Though we be far removed, we have heard tell of the great Dwarf who fought so bravely and slew so many Orcs, that no one could keep count!" Bowing slightly, he smiled at the stout Dwarf who gruffly demurred, but everyone could see a slight pink bloom in his cheeks as he returned the Elf's bow. Elrond turned to the rest and was surprised at the two Halflings standing proudly before him.

"Do mine eyes deceive? Are these proud soldiers the same two silly Hobbits who stood before me not a year ago and made me wonder if they would survive? We have heard tell of Halflings riding with King Theoden, and the Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith. Heroic Hobbits, welcome back to Rivendell." Elrond's gaze then landed on Legolas and his burden.

"Legolas, son of Thranduil, King of Greenwood, my heart is gladdened by your safe return. But what is this person you have carried?" Elrond came to Legolas and looked into the face of a human woman, whose face was flushed with fever and the yellow of fading bruises. Long gashes ran from lip to ear on the side of her head. "Who is this?" he asked, surprised.

"We do not know. She appears not to speak any known language. We were in the forest west of Helm's Deep, when Gimli's sharp eyes caught sight of a figure falling or jumping off a cliff. I too, saw this fall and hastened to the spot to see if the person yet lived, but it took us quite some time ere we discovered her. She carried neither water, nor food, but traveled with a large canine. Though injured, she appeared neither mute nor dumb and indeed proved capable of speech, though not ours. She spoke only one word, which we could understand. She said "Shire," but did not understand our questions. Nearly seven days ago, however, she fell into fever and has since slipped into a deep-sleep, I fear." Ending his shortened tale of events, Legolas looked to Elrond for help, but Elrond was already turning, calling to Elves gifted in the healing arts. As servants appeared to take the sweaty ponies, Aragorn and Arwen disappeared on their own, and Pippin and Merry went off in search of sustenance. Legolas and Gimli had gone with the healers, leaving Elrond alone with the two remaining figures. He turned and gazed for a long time at the slight figures in front of him, then nodded thoughtfully.

"You have proved me right, young Samwise Gamgee. Thought Frodo is a valiant and brave Hobbit, I foresaw times when he would need a great heart to keep him hale. My greatest gratitude I give to you!" Elrond took the Hobbits hand in his own and looked into his eyes. Sam blushed slightly and looked at his toes, the intense scrutiny of the Elf proving too much.

"Well, I made a promise and Gamgees don't go back on their promises, they don't!" he cried. Elrond smiled gently and nodded, then changed his attention to the last traveler. Here, his face grew solemn and he saw before him a quite different Hobbit than the one who had so boldly stated his intent to destroy the ring. That Hobbit had been earnest and nervous, young and innocent. In front of him now, was a broken Hobbit, smiling, but pale, lacking the triumph that should accompany him. He looked, Elrond realized, fatigued beyond repair. With a sinking heart, it became clear to Lord Elrond, that Frodo was not long for this world. Though he had succeeded in his mission, he had lost his will to live. Placing his hands gently on the Hobbit's shoulders, he squeezed lightly in a most un-Elf-like gesture of warmth.

"Welcome back, Master Baggins. Though there is much I would say, there is someone here, who you may wish to see," he said, pointing Frodo off in the direction of Bilbo. As the two wandered off, he watched them, melancholy settling over him. There was, in fact, very little left to say.

  
  


**********

  
  


Having returned in the middle of September, the Hobbits and Gimli were treated to the beauty of an Elven city as the leaves turned brilliant shades of russet, crimson and gold. Time seemed to cease, and all were content to wander the pathways, sit by the water or relax in the company of loved ones. Nights were filled with festivities, celebrating the heroes and their fallen companion. Merry and Pippin were more than happy to regale the Elves with tales of the battles. And if, with each telling, the battles were a bit fiercer, the Orcs a bit bigger, the Halflings a bit braver, well, no one really minded. Even the severe Dwarf was cajoled into story-telling after enough Elvish wine. Lord Elrond, himself, was startled into laughter by the sight of three Hobbits romping with a dog big enough for them to ride. By the end of the month, the strange woman they had found had been all but forgotten as healers tried to wake her. There was one though, who could not let go and enjoy the easiness of Rivendell life. Frodo sat by Miranda's bed and read or thought, often all day long. He did this not out of pity or affection for a woman he barely knew, but out of fear. She had spoken of the Shire and he was afraid what that might mean. His home was his refuge and he was prepared to fight for it with every worn bone in his body.

******

On the eve of Iavas, the Elvish autumn, the healers were no closer in figuring out what ailed the human woman. Though they could easily bring down her fever, it would quickly spike again, but they could not find the source of the infection. Lord Elrond sat near the side of the bed, lost in thought, when a large yellow dog came bounding in.

"Maggie! Come back here!" Sam raced in after the dog. Maggie began sniffing and whining at her mistress and both watched in amazement as she frantically nosed under the woman's arm at her rib-cage. The dog jumped off the bed, came to Sam, and then, wagging her tail, returned to the bed, again nosing at Miranda's rib-cage.

"Can animals detect injury?" Elrond wondered, but came to the bed and lightly began searching the area the dog had indicated. To his surprise, he found a tiny puncture, no bigger than a nail head, under her breast. Using his healing gifts, he was able to dislodge a three-inch long sliver of wood. Holding the slimy piece in astonishment, he looked from it to the dog.

"Thank you," he said formally, then returned to the task of lowering the woman's fever.

By midday, the next day, the entire city was buzzing with the news that the stranger had wakened. Though she was weak and slept heavily, they were certain now that it was a healing sleep.

  
  


*****

The sixth of October found the four Hobbits together in their chambers talking of their home. All had come to agree that it was time they journeyed home.

"Though I will miss my uncle very much, I think I should like to be back in the Shire," Frodo said wistfully. "I miss my warm hearth and lazy days. The leaves have turned and soon they will fall, after that, the snows are not far off. I think it best if we take leave shortly."

"Me, too, Master Frodo! I've liked these days with the Elves well enough, but my garden needs tending before it frosts! And there are other things that want doing," Sam added.

"Weel, I fer one wouldna stay alone! It'll be nice, I think, ta be aroond normal sized lads again!" Pippin agreed.

"Count me in! I bet the Shire is as boring as a Dwarf-story without us there to liven it up a bit, eh Cousin?" Merry grinned, poking Pippin in the side. That evening they commenced with loading their sacks with provisions for the trip home. Pippni's bag, however, was nowhere to be found, until Sam dragged it out from deep under a bed.

"Ah and I do remember hidin it there now!" Pippin grinned and tipped the knapsack onto the bed to empty it. An odd, meaty smell drifted up as he did so.

"What in the world is that?" Merry said, pointing to a small brownish lump from which the smell issued.

"Ach that! I was savin that fer later! And its later!" Pippin said gleefully unwrapping the bit a sweetcake he'd brought from Minas Tirith. As he happily began eating, the rest grimaced in discuss, but something caught Merry's eye.

"Where'd you get this?" He asked, pulling a large (by Hobbit-standard) leather bag out of the sack. Pippin's eyes grew round and he choked lightly on his cake.

"Oops! I err.....I fergot about that'n! I foun that near wheres we found Miranda an brought it wi' me! I meant to tell ye all, but....weel...." he shrugged sheepishly. Intirgued, Frodo carefully reached inside the bag and began pulling out all sorts of odd contraptions. They recognized some things, like a hairbrush and although the makeup was strange, they had seen similiar things in human cities. The matierials were different however.

"This is vera strange," Pippin said, tapping on a round disc with a string leading from it to a sort of half moon. "I ha' niver seen this sort of wood before. D'ye suspect it might be Elvish?"he asked? The others shook their heads.

"This is somewhat like the circlet Lady Eowyn wore round her head," Merry said, pointing to the half-moon. Setting it aside, they pulled out what appeared to be clothing, though how it fit was beyond them. There were a few odd pens and more things they couldn't identify.

"Do you think we should show this to Strider?" Sam asked. "It could be some sort of weapon. Or at least he might tell us what it all is!" The rest agreed and together they trooped to the main hall, where the evening meal was about to begin. As the Hobbits were well aware. Before reaching the main hall, Sam murmured something about checking on something and disappeared.

After presenting the bag and its contents to Aragorn and Lord Elrond, the three Hobbits joined the rest in eating. Aragorn and Elrond went through the bag, but the majority of its contents stumped them as well. Legolas, seated to Arwen's right, took great interest in the items made from the strange hard material. Taking the disc, he poked at it and held it to his ear, but it spoke nothing. 

"There appears to be writing of some sort on it, but I do not recognize it," he said. Pushing on what seemed to be buttons, were was surprised to feel the item begin to whirr. Suddenly his sharp ears caught the sounds coming out of the half-moon and he held them up to his ears.

"It's a strange sort of music, I think!" he said, curiosity piqued. The Hobbits immediatly clamored round, wanting to hear.

"Tis a rather terrible sort of music!" Merry said, grimacing, handing the contraption to Frodo who listened shortly, then agreed with Merry. The rest of the items were passed around, but little clues were available as to their purpose. Lord Elrond, having lived several millennia, was especially put out having no idea what is was, he was examining.

  
  


******

The man was incredibly hot. He was tall, blonde, built and and coming toward her, an 'I want you' expression all over his face. Taking her gently into his arms, he bent her back and lowered his lips to hers, kissing her with the perfect mixture of suction and tongue.

"More Mars bars?" he asked, presenting her with a bowl full of the chocolate, while kneeling down to rub her feet.

"Mmmmmhmm..."she moaned. "Oh Legolas, more-" 

Miranda sat up in bed breathing hard, and looked wildly around the room. What the BLOODY hell was that? A dream? She was dreaming about the pretty boy?

**Christ, Miranda. A little old for Harliquen romance-dreams, aren't we?** she thought, sighing. Why were the dream-men only found in, well, dreams?

Rolling over, her eyes once again rested on the large bay window within her sight on the left side. Through it, she saw that the sun had set and lamp lights had appeared throughout the city, lighting it with a otherworldly glow.

`Well that makes sense, seeing as I'm IN an 'other' world. With little people and pointy-eared people and Vikings.` She spoke aloud, thinking she was alone, and was startled when a voice answered her.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. However, by the expression upon your face, I'll wager you're feeling better. And since you haven't really had anything to eat in nearly two weeks, I bet you're hungry as a Hobbit, too!" Sam said, smiling at her.

Miranda had no clue what he said, but recognized "to eat," a verb made known to her with hand motions over the past week. Pulling a flowing sort of shift from the chair, he handed it to her and made a show of turning his back.

**Ahhh. Now I get the flowy robes. How fairy-esque!** Miranda pulled on the robe, making a face at the extra material pooling around her feet. Expecting to appear small and delicate when she looked at her reflection in the window glass, she sighed at the way the shift stretched across her hips and bust.

**Damn statuesque pointy-eared people. I was out of it for a couple weeks, judging from the changing of the leaves, and I couldn't lose a couple pounds? Obviously this world has no justice. Ah well, no one here I have to impress.** 

Taking the arm Sam galantly offered (having seen Strider do the same to Arwen), they slowly made their way to the hall, Miranda leaning rather heavily on Sam, having not regained all her strength back.

Smiling at each other goofily, they entered the hall where Miranda stopped dead in her tracks. Ahead of her was the main dais where she was greeted with the sight of Merry and Pippin trying to play sling-shot with her 40£ Victoria's Secret Wonder bra. (Which did do wonders!) Legolas and Gimli were both listening to her discman, trying to figure out how it works. Aragorn and a pointy-eared woman had their heads together over her wallet looking at bad wedding pictures and another tall, dark-haired pointy-eared man was.....ohmigod.

`OH. MY. GOD!` Miranda roared. The entire hall looked up in surprise. `What the bloody HELL are you doing with my diaphragm?` 


	8. Chapter 8: Yo Ho Westron and a GLass of ...

A/N

Again, thank you all very much for the lovely reviews. Although I write because I enjoy it, and I want to see where the story goes, I must admit I love the reviews (which luckily have only been good so far!) Since writing this story, I have begun to realize how nerve-racking it can be when you post a story and receive no reviews, since they are the only way you know people are actually reading your story. I'm not sure how others write and create their stories, but I put quite a bit of effort into mine, writing and rewriting, considering word choice, deciding if certain utterances fit certain characters, flipping through my dog-eared copies of the novels themselves making sure I don't make obvious blunders and checking my pages upon pages of notes to make sure there is continuity. (Excuse my rant, but why don't people understand Gandalf is a wizard - not a human? I realize in Ms. Rowling's world wizards are humans, but Tolkien was rather specific in creating a separate race called wizards! End of rant.) Anyway, I really appreciate those of you who take the time to comment and if anyone would like me to read their story or beta-read it, I would be more than happy to! I have been posting late Sunday night every week, which I plan to continue doing, although this next week might be late. Don't fret though, because I will finish the story, having already written the last two chapters! So without further ado....

  
  


Chapter 8

  
  


Alone in the darkened room, Frodo gasped and leaned against a chair for support, the pain coming swiftly and strongly. A knife of white fire stabbed at his chest again and again, then slowly faded, leaving behind only a dull ache.

**One year.** Frodo remembered. **My anniversary of Weathertop.** As the pain subsided, he was left weak and lay down on the bed and fell asleep. Passing by on his way to the evening meal, Bilbo knocked softly on Frodo's door, and stepped inside, calling his nephew's name. 

"Frodo? Lad, are you in here?" Bilbo sighed as he found Frodo lying asleep on his side. 

**Ah, Frodo. It's hard on you, isn't lad? I can still feel that pull and that hatred, too. Will it ever go away?** Tucking the covers securely around Frodo, Bilbo pulled up a chair and rocked, singing one of his made-up songs.

  
  


****

  
  


`Where did you get my bag and why are you going through my personal belongings? I realize your world is a bit different, but surely people understand the concept of privacy here?!` Miranda's outrage, if not her words, were understandable. The various peoples of Middle-Earth looked on in alarm as the red-faced woman approached the main dais as rapidly as possible. Luckily for Elrond and the rest, she was still rather weak and leaned heavily on Sam, who was at a loss as to what to do.

Having swiftly regained his composure, Legolas immediately grasped the point of the woman's anger and gathered up the remaining items, carefully replacing them in the bag. He then bowed slightly before her and gravely returned the bag.

"My sincerest apologies, Miranda, we thought only to find some clue as to your origins. We meant no dishonor." His voice was calmly soothing, and although Miranda wasn't sure what he was saying, she understood his bow and his return of her overnight bag. Embarrassment began to overtake her as she realized how badly she'd overreacted. **They probably have no clue what a diaphragm is,** she thought. **At least they didn't find the tampons and mace at the bottom. And now they think I'm a mad-woman. Open mouth, insert foot.** She took a deep breath, smiled sheepishly and offered her hands up in what she hoped was a universal gesture of 'oops!' 

The Elves, sensing that crisis had been averted, returned to eating and murmuring amongst themselves, but watched the scene unfolding in front of them. Legolas took Miranda's hand lightly with his own and lead her to the dais to greet Lord Elrond and Arwen. Although they were no closer to revealing Miranda's identity, they had certain clues which made them suspect she was a lady of breeding. Her hands were smooth and well cared for, and her skin pale. Had she been a human peasant, she would show the signs of a life of work. Her clothing and leather sack, although alien to them, had been wrought of fine, soft materials and good workmanship. Her manner and stance also did not appear to be those of a subservient. 

"I am Elrond, lord of this city called Imladris, or Rivendell by your kind. This is my daughter, Arwen, the Evenstar of our people. We are glad to offer you the hospitality of our home during your convalescence." He chose not to say more, fully aware the woman had little understanding of his words. Taking Miranda's hand in his, Elrond gazed at her, searching her eyes. He felt no malice within her, only confusion, embarrassment and slight fear. He relaxed his stern countenance and let her know that he meant her no harm. He then turned and swept his arm, offering a seat at a nearby table.

**What IS this place?** Miranda wondered to herself as she sat at a low table next to Sam. The tall one, Elrond she remembered, had seemed to, well, he seemed to look inside her. She had felt naked, exposed, but no fear. His gaze had been severe and benevolent at the same time. She felt drained and sat quietly at the table, eating what was placed before her, while surveying the large hall. The ceiling appeared so far up that it was indistinguishable from a night sky. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with enormous windows, revealing the surrounding city which glowed from imperceptible lights. Though the hall was quite large and ornate, it somehow retained an air of coziness. The tall, unaccessible people seemed smaller, while sitting, more kind. 

Excluding the few men she had traveled with, the rest possessed a ethereal beauty Miranda could not name.

**They're not beautiful in a Hollywood type way,** Miranda thought to herself. **They are willowy and ageless, somehow.** Their eyes were wise and ancient, their gestures delicate and graceful. The men moved light as cats, the women seemed to float, barely touching the ground. There was no awkwardness, no spilling of wine or voices raised in raucous laughter; only a subdued murmur of easy conversation. After awhile, the novelty wore off and Miranda began to get bored.

**How long do dinners last here?** she thought exasperated. The food was light and delicious but without anyone to talk to, and with people continually stealing looks at her, she felt on display. Snagging a glass of what she suspected was wine from a passing server, she downed it in one gulp, enjoying the warmth. It was over quickly, however, and Miranda sighed in boredom.

Sam looked up when he heard the sigh and noticed Miranda sitting with her chin in hand, looking rather unhappy.

**Maybe she misses her home,** he thought sadly. **Maybe she had little ones and a man waiting for her somewhere.** Determined to cheer her up, Sam wracked his brain for ways to communicate. She had learned their names easily enough and a few words- eat, sleep, lavatory, though they were heavily accented.

**That's what I'll do! I'll teach her to speak, or my name isn't Samwise Gamgee!** he thought excitedly and turned to get Miranda's attention.

"Well miss, I'm not sure where you came from or why you're here, but Master Elrond doesn't seem to think you're a threat and he surely knows about those things, so I thought maybe I could try and y'know, teach you how to speak." Sam said earnestly, then realized she had no idea what he was saying. She watched him and smiled apologetically, shrugging slightly.

"Alright then. Let's see." Sam sat thoughtfully for a moment, his brow furrowed, then brightened. He picked up her wine goblet and pointed to it while saying "glass" slowly and emphatically. "Glass!" he said.

Miranda watched him for a moment, unsure of what he wanted. Was she not supposed to drink? **Maybe women aren't allowed to drink here, like in one of those countries on TV, ** she thought nervously. But that didn't seem to be his point. Again he indicated the glass and said, "Glass."

Deciding to take a chance, Miranda repeated the strange word, "G-glass?" she said softly. Sam smiled and nodded happily. "Glass!" she repeated more confidently. Sam was grinning by now and picked up a fork.

"Fork!" he said.

"Fork!" she repeated. One by one, they went through the eating utensils over and over until she could name them quickly and confidently. By now, Miranda had realized what Sam was doing.

**Eating utensils are all well and good, but probably aren't going to be much help. I need to learn the entire verb structure.** Deciding to take a chance, she made eating notions with her fork and used the infinitive form she knew.

"Miranda to eat," she said, looking at Sam. He looked at her quizzically and then said hesitantly,

"Miranda eats."

"Miranda eats!" she said quickly and then pointed at him. "Sam eats!" He nodded and she continued, searching for the forms. "Miranda and Sam eats!" With a dawning understanding, Sam corrected her:

"Miranda and Sam eat. I eat." He said pointing at himself and emphasizing the word 'I'. "You eat." He said, indicating Miranda and emphasizing 'you'. "We eat." Miranda caught on and nearly crowed with delight at her new understanding.

"I. You. We." She repeated, rolling the strange words around on her tongue. Thankfully, the language structure included separate personal pronouns! She snagged another glass of wine and toasted Sam. Unbeknownst to them, Legolas and the Hobbits had been watching with undisguised interest and now moved from the upper dais to their table.

"She's talken'," Pippin said gleefully, plopping down at the table and upsetting several glasses. He'd clearly had quite a few tastes of the Elvish brew himself and was grinning madly. Legolas also had had several glasses. Although it hadn't affected him nearly as much as Pippin, he was not used to the Rivendell potency, and was more loquacious than normal.

"You're teaching her Westron?" he said, slightly arrogantly.

"Yes," Sam answered, uncertainly. The Elf, like all Elves, intimidated him with his elegance and commanding presence.

"It's a rather....common language, wouldn't you say?" Legolas said, smiling slightly. Sam was confused. It felt as though Legolas was making fun of him, yet the Elf had never been anything but kind before.

"Well....it's called the 'Common Language'...."Sam trailed off, looking at his hands. Maybe Legolas was right. Who was he to think he could teach? He was naught but a lowly gardener. Sam smiled sadly and said. "Maybe you're right," and prepared to leave when Pippin butted in abruptly.

"Common? Common? Are ye callin our beloved speech 'common'?" he cried indignantly. "At least we....err....." he stuttered and thought for a moment. "At least we don't have.....ermm....Hey! At least WE don't have pointy-ears!" he finished triumphantly.

"Aye!" joined Merry. "At least we don't have pointy-ears! An' whas more-" he slurred, "Whas more is....we LIKE Westron!" Sam brightened at the support of his friends.

"Aye! We like Westron. If it's good enough for Hobbits, it's good enough for anybody!"he cried. Legolas blinked in surprise at the sight of the three indignant Halflings. He realized his he had been showing off like a young Elf-lad trying to impress an Elf-lass and bowed his head in apology.

"Please accept my apologies, I did not mean to insult you and your tongue. It was a poor choice of words." He smiled gently and the three Hobbits immediately smiled back and forgot the argument.

Miranda, sensing the tension, had been unsure of what brought it on and was surprised at how quickly it passed. The rest of the night was spent laughing, drinking and repeating various words. Legolas was surprised to find himself smiling widely and often. He was unused to the exuberance exhibited by the Elves and found their and Miranda's excitement as intoxicating as the wine he'd been drinking. He felt warm and.... He stopped suddenly and realized the strange emotion. He was happy. For so long he'd been in an emotionless state of easy contentment, and then the sadness and anger of the War of the Ring, he had all but forgotten what happiness felt like. He watched Miranda laugh at something Pippin said and felt a tightening in his chest, noting her easy smile and bright eyes. When she looked at him, she looked not with the hesitance and far-removed admiration of a human woman, nor with the kind, but indifferent look of an Elf. Instead she looked at him as an equal and smiled at him often. He noticed her watching him and returned her smile, slowly, imagining the corners of his mouth creaking like Dwarven door hinges, rusty with disuse.

**Yum.** Miranda thought to herself, sleepily, as Legolas smiled at her. **It is simply not possible for human to look that sexy while wearing leggings!** The thought struck her and she jerked upright bodily and pointed to herself, then to Aragorn, nodding, saying "We." Then she pointed to the Hobbits and shook her head using the plural, "Not you. Not Legolas. Not Gimli." And continued, trying to get the word for their different races.

Legolas smiled again, enjoying the way she mispronounced his name. 

"Elf!" Miranda cried, pointing at Legolas and giggling. 

`Huh. Why's 'ee swayin like that?` She said drunkenly in English. Suddenly the Lady Arwen's face appeared before her saying something about bed.

"Yes. Bed." Miranda said, standing up. **Hah!** she thought. **Westron is easy-peasy!**she grinned. And promptly passed out.


	9. Chapter 9: Whoooo Rrrrrr Youuuuuuu? Alic...

Chapter 9

  
  


Miranda could feel herself falling, felt a painful THUMP. And her world went black.

Arwen saw Miranda pass out and seized her; but the Elf misjudged the human woman's weight and they both teetered over. Miranda's head connected with the table in a sickening crunch. Arwen's exceptional reflexes kept the other woman's head from again smashing into the stone floor.

On the other side of the table, Legolas had been distracted by a touch on his sleeve, and returned his gaze in time to witness Arwen making a grasp for Miranda. Though he moved extraordinary quickly, he was not in time to catch her, and could only watch as she fell. He moved in a flash, lifting her onto the table, swept clear of dishes and platters with two sweeps of Hobbit arms. As he laid her on the table, he was horrified to pull out his hand and see it covered in red gore. Lord Elrond had reached their table and again placed his hands on Miranda, closing his eyes and seeking the injury. With his mind's eye he moved past bone, past fluid and grey matter until he reached the wound, throbbing crimson. Using the old Elvish gifts, he reduced swelling, his facial muscles tightening with the effort of causing muscles tissue to re-knit, bone covering to reform. After nearly an hour, he pulled away, drained. The hall had emptied, leaving only a select few. As Arwen and Aragorn tended to her father, the rest gathered round Miranda as her eyes fluttered open.

  
  


******

  
  


Dark. She was surrounded by darkness, so thick it was palpable. She waded through the darkness, not knowing up from down. Suddenly a low, familiar voice called to her and she moved towards the voice, rising as though through water, she awoke suddenly.

`What- what happened?` 

She spoke English and understood it. But something felt terribly wrong. She looked up at Sam and Pippin, the faces closest to her.

"Miranda? Are you all right?" Sam asked, worriedly. Miranda gazed at him curiously.

"Who-are-Miranda?" she asked in halting Westron. Exchanging concerned and confused looks, they helped her sit upright. She appeared confused and disoriented.

"Sam?" Miranda looked at Sam, unable to find the Westron words to ask what happened. He pretended to fall and hit his head on the table, and she understood. She had fallen.

"Are you sure you're all right, Miranda?" Again she looked confused. She gazed around at the rest of the folk then said:

"Who-are- Miranda?" worry seeping into her voice.

"Why, you are, miss!" Pippin answered, confounded. Miranda looked shocked.

"I am-" Her voice broke off, and she panicked. **I can't remember! Who-who am I?** She looked wildly around the room. She recognized everything. Sam had brought her down for dinner. Before that, she had been in a room, recovering from.....A fever! Yes, she remembered she had got a fever while in the forest and she had been in the forest because....Her head jerked up in shock and she stared at Legolas, who was in her direct line of vision. WHY HAD SHE BEEN IN THE FOREST? She racked her brain trying to remember why, remember anything before staring up at Aragorn, but couldn't. Everything after being in the forest was clear, but before that she had no clue. She couldn't remember who she was, where she came from. Random words popped into her head: England, television, soda pop. She could picture them, but they held no meaning for her. Panicking, she tried to rise from the table and grasped at the person holding her down.

"Not remember!" she whispered, traumatized. "I not remember!" Legolas looked at her in shock, understanding dawning finally on his delicate features.

"She has lost her memory," he whispered.

  
  


*******

When Miranda awoke the next morning, the air was cool and rain fell lightly on the balcony outside her room. She rolled over and saw that she was alone in the chamber, having no way of knowing that Sam had sat beside her bed most of the night, until Bilbo had come to find him and tell him of Frodo's attack the previous evening. Though the panic attacks had lessened to a dull sense of worry, Miranda again tried to retrace her steps from the previous month. Over and over again, however, she ran into the same barrier. What had happened in the forest that day to make her forget?

It was extremely frustrating, for she knew she did not belong here. She was aware that she SHOULD have memories, but simply couldn't find them. Propping herself up in bed she ruminated over various recollections.

`A, B, C, D, E, F, G...` she sang to herself. `1,2,3,4,5. Grüss Gott, heute ist es ja kalt! Bonjour, c'est aujourd'hui tout à fait froid. Hello, it's quite cold today` She repeated to herself. `My name is Miranda.... errr.... ok. And my birthday is.....` she sighed in frustration, again. What was going on? She knew things and she knew she was supposed to know them, but they didn't make sense.

`Where is my family? Surely I cannot be alone in the world, can I?` She said aloud. She knew what a family was. She knew people had them, she had to have or have had parents, possibly a husband or (god-forbid) children! But every time she tried to picture them, she drew a blank.

`Grrrrr!` Miranda growled in frustration was surprised by a loud WOOF and a soft shout of laughter. Standing at the door were Frodo and Sam with a large yellow dog. A lab, she recalled. She dog came bounding to her and she recoiled in fright.

"Hey!" she said. "Go away!" She looked to Sam for help in getting the beast off her bed. Sam's face fell. He had been certain that seeing Maggie would return her memory. Instead she seemed frightened. Frodo shrugged apologetically:

"Give her time, Sam. We don't know what's happened in her life. Besides, remember when we were little and Bilbo's friend Old Barnaby fell off the wagon and hit his head? He clean forgot his entire family for nearly three months!"

Sam smiled slightly in remembrance of the brawny old Hobbit who liked eating, drinking and telling the little ones stories.

"Yes, Mr. Frodo. You're probably right. She just needs some time." Deciding to let it go for the present, the two friends sat on the edge of Miranda's bed and continued the language lessons.

  
  


******

  
  


Far, far in the east, Gandalf reached the city of Minas Tirith. There he met with a messenger, instructing the man to go as fast as possible and give this message to a man known as Strider, whom he would find in the Elven city of Rivendell.

"He is vanished. I can find no trace of him or his followers. News I have none except for a single unlikely lead. Do NOT let down your guard!" Gandalf's aged face blazed with the intensity of his message. He shook the messenger slightly and said:

"Find him. Tell him exactly what I've said. Do you understand, man?" The messenger nodded warily and quickly stepped away, brushing off his shirt. He was astounded to look up not a second later and find the old man vanished.

"Strange. Very strange men in these parts," he murmured to himself, then went off to find his mount for the long trip West.

He had scarcely been gone a day, when he realized a shadow was tracking him. As the moon rose into the night sky, the messenger hid behind a rock, his knife in hand, waiting for the assassin. He never saw the unusually large, black wolf sneak up behind him. By the time he noticed, it was all over. His body was dragged deep into the wood and left for scavengers. The wolf, his task accomplished, set off towards the rising sun.

  
  


******

By the middle of October, Miranda had recovered completely from both her fever and head injury. The days had flown by as she spent mornings with the Hobbits learning language and afternoons wandering the forests and riverside. But her favorite time was in the evening, long after night fell, when the Elves and guests would gather in the great halls. Night after night, there was singing and story-telling. Though her speech was vastly improved, so much so in fact, that she joked they had put something in her water, she understood little of the singing and none of the Elvish. It mattered little, however, for the music was beautiful and she was quickly growing attached to Sam. 

For his part, Sam enjoyed his time spent with Miranda because it distracted him from his feeling that Frodo was slowly drifting away. Though he sat with them and could even, from time to time, be cajoled into sharing a song or story, more often he sat pensively, lost in his own world. Another part of him enjoyed his status as teacher. Sam understood from a young age, that his would never be a great mind, but she looked to him for guidance and he was happy to help.

For Miranda, she had grown fond of the Hobbits, found them friendly, warm and non-threatening in an unknown environment. Though at first she had noticed only their small stature and jolly demeanor and had thought of them as children, the more she knew them, the more she realized that what she considered naivete and child-like wonder, was goodness. They were GOOD people, free of real greed, avarice or malice. Being around them made her happy. She was often reminded, however, that they were grown adults. Their hands, for instance, were quite large, capable and masculine in appearance. The youngest, even, was more than a decade older than she was.

Frodo was feeling a growing frustration. Though he loved being with Bilbo and enjoyed Rivendell, his heart longed for the green fields of the Shire. Their plan to leave had been postponed when Sam hadn't wanted to leave Miranda, but now she was well and he saw no reason for them to remain. Lord Elrond, though enjoying the company of the Hobbits, also warned them that snows fell early in those parts. It was finally decided that they would leave soon.

"Leave? To go where?" Miranda asked, growing concerned. She had overheard the Hobbits discussing their plans and felt distressed. She knew she didn't belong in Rivendell, but did not know where to go. Lord Elrond and Aragorn also knew not what to do, and so felt it best for her to stay where she was. They had not forgotten her words of the Shire, though they were convinced she proffered no harm.

"We're goin home!" Pippin answered. "Home to th' Shire, where the green hills roll, the beer is cold and the lasses bonny!" he sang happily. Guiltily, Sam watched Miranda's face fall. He knew how much she had come to like the Hobbits, for they had grown to like her. His heart sank as he realized they would be seemingly abandoning her! Without thinking, he blurted out,

"Why can't she come along?" The other Hobbits paused in surprise and looked at one another.

"O, Sam, I dunno. I mean, she's might....weel....she's a bit large for a Hobbit house!" Pip said, looking at Miranda who stood a good foot taller than he. "Where would she stay?" Sam immediately looked toward Frodo, but tried not to and stared at his hairy feet. Frodo, who had known this was coming, smiled at his friend's transparency.

"She could very well stay at Bag End, Pippin. It's a very large space for a single Hobbit," he said. "Would you like to come stay with us in Hobbiton, Miranda?"

Miranda was at a lost. She thought about Rivendell, how lovely it was and how comforting. But then she considered that when the Hobbits left, she would be without company. Legolas and Gimli were leaving the next day for some caves, (she hadn't quite understood. ) Aragorn was so wrapped up in Arwen, both rarely appeared in public. Why not go with her friends?

"I would very much like that, only..."she trailed off, her face beet red.

"Only what?" Frodo asked, curious.

"I haven't any money. I don't know how I'd pay for my keep," She said. Lord Elrond and Aragorn had discussed her past with her, trying to jog her memory. They sent messengers to various human cities asking if a lady had gone missing, but had found nothing.

She realized Frodo looked affronted.

"Pay?" he said, shocked. "Why would you have to pay? I don't know what it's like where you come from, but in the Shire a Hobbit's hearth is always open to his friends! Pay, indeed!" he muttered. Miranda laughed, she couldn't help it. Apologizing for her gaffe, the five made plans to leave in a week's time. As the Hobbits continued packing, Miranda slipped out and went to find Arwen, who had promised to show Miranda the bathing place for women. She hadn't bathed since....well, her mind refused to consider the possibilities. Hobbits, she would later find out, bathe quite infrequently, and then usually just bit by bit, rather than entire submersion. Elves, she soon found out, rarely NEEDED to bathe, but when they did, preferred the freshness of a swift stream.

**Right. I get it now. I'm on hidden camera, aren't I? I'll just pop round the corner and someone will be there with HOT water, congratulating me on being such an easy-going guest!** Miranda stared at the stream with its swiftly passing, ice-cold water. Did they have leather for skin? Sighing, she slipped naked into the stream and began washing with the soap given to her. Trying to ignore her chattering teeth and blue-tinged fingertips, with eyes screwed shut, Miranda sang loudly to herself as she quickly dunked her head in the water and jumped up and down, trying to revive her numbing toes.

`I get knocked down! But I get up again! Nobody gonna keep me down! I get knocked down!` She rhythmically shouted the words and, deeming herself clean-enough, opened her eyes and went to grab her cloak. As she straightened after grabbing the cloak, her green eyes met a pair of blue eyes.

"Gahh!"

  
  


*******

"Truly, Legolas, I think it best that I go down early to sup. A long way we will travel on the morrow and I wish to be fully prepared!" Gimli rumbled slyly as he headed to the main hall.

"Good then, Master Dwarf. We shall meet early and at last I might view these wondrous caves!" Legolas smiled and turned to search out Miranda, who (he'd learned from Arwen) had gone to bathe. Glad that he would find her alone, without the near constant Halfling guard, he had hurried in pursuit. As he and Gimli set out tomorrow, she and the Hobbits would return to the Shire. Before she left, Legolas planned to make one last effort to find her truthful circumstances.

Reaching the edge of the stream, he caught sight of her blonde head bobbing up and 

down in the water. His sharp ears caught an odd rhythmic shouting. As he came into speaking distance, he started to call to her, that she might not be frightened by his sudden appearance. However, her eyes popped open and bore into his as she let out a loud squawk. Having obviously been startled, she instinctively stepped backwards and fell back into the stream, accidently letting go of her cloak which merrily bobbed out of reach and away with the current. Miranda spluttered to the surface, her face red with embarrassment, to see her cloak floating away. It grew more red as she realized she was now naked. Though the water was flowing quickly enough to hide her, she had no clothes in which to return to her room. And then there was Legolas, standing there looking at her, his face unreadable. 

"Miranda, in truth I did not mean to startle you," his voice was earnest, and his face betrayed no emotion as usual. He crouched down gracefully, and offered a long arm to help her out.

**I believe the correct phrase in this situation is 'Oh dear God, let me die now!'** Miranda stared at the offered hand. Legolas, misinterpreting her expression, quickly stepped back. A strange feeling grew in his chest, he felt angry and hurt that she rejected his help. He had thought they might grow to be friends and found himself seeking her, though most times he found her with Hobbits and so left. Many times, Legolas felt she was laughing at him, though he found nothing in his speech or behavior that would warrant jest. But she spoke to him easily and without shyness. This forwardness and friendliness unnerved and attracted him, for he was unused to human women, or any women in fact, behaving in such a manner.

Miranda was surprised when the hand was quickly withdrawn and his neutral expression became cold. She realized he had drawn the wrong conclusion about her refusal to take his hand and tried to tell him she was naked, but did not know the word for naked.

"I have no, um, clothes," she said, making a face and motioning to her body under the water.

"Yes, your cloak was stolen by the current. Some farmer many leagues away will find a gift tomorrow," Legolas answered slowly, unsure if her lack of vocabulary was leading to her statement of the obvious.

Miranda sighed in frustration. "No! I mean....You...." she made a twirling motion with her hand.

"You wish me to turn around?" Legolas asked, confusedly. "How, then, shall I help you from the water?" Miranda sighed again. It was damned cold in the water. Fine. He would get a show. She reached up her hand and huffed in surprise when he smoothly drew her out of the water without any seeming effort. He quickly pulled off his on tunic and wrapped it around her, rubbing her arms roughly. Unlike a normal man, he didn't ogle her nakedness, or awkwardly avert his eyes; instead he seemed not to notice. His grip had moved towards her hands and he was rubbing feeling back into her fingers.

For his part, Legolas held her close as he tried to increase the circulation in her extremities. Though the tip of her nose was cold where it pressed against his arm, and her hands her chilly, he was again startled by the heat emanating from her body. Was it natural for humans to produce so much body heat? He could hear the blood in her veins lose its sluggishness and flow quickly again. He realized that she hadn't moved. Though he held her with a touch so light, she need but flinch and would be free, she seemed content where she was. He too, he realized, was content to remain standing, his arms around her, not moving, not daring even to breathe, lest he spook her.

Miranda had been lulled by the warmth of his body, his closeness and his arms around her. It had been so long since anyone had simply held her, she remained still, enjoying the sensation until she realized something was off. It took her a minute but she realized he was not moving. At all. Humans in such a position sway to and fro soothingly, but he stood stock-still, yet made no move to push her from him. She though he was probably just making sure she didn't fall into the water again and stepped back. As she did, the tunic caught on his sword sheathe and was pulled off. Miranda closed her eyes in embarrassment, her hands going up instinctively to shield what they could.

Legolas watched, as understanding dawned. She was chagrined at being nude and therefore hadn't wanted him to see her! He shook his head slightly as he remembered Elves in his father's court speaking of the odd aversion humans seemed to have to their own bodies. He realized how indelicate he'd been and wrapped the tunic around her again, this time settling it into place over her head.

"Lady, I am sorry. Our kind finds no shame in nudity so I did not recognize yours. No forwardness was meant on my part," he said elegantly, bowing slightly. "Come," he said, again offering her his arm. "We will return to the dwelling where you might find clothing, well though my own suits you." Had she been less cold, she would have marveled at the never before seen sight: he was teasing her! Together they returned to the hall and parted ways near her door.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


&*^$*$^&

The song Miranda sang was by good-ole-whatever-happened-to-them Chumbawamba. It just fit.


	10. Chapter 10: Friendships FoundedSaying Go...

I am SOOOO frustrated!! I haven't been able to get on Fanfiction.net for 6 days, it keeps giving me that annoying 'page unavailable' crap. Then it was fine randomly and been ok since Friday. Has anyone else had trouble getting on last week? Just checking if there is something wrong with my service. Please let me know if you were on, so I can figure out what the problem is!!! As it stands, I can't read very often, sniff, sniff!

  
  


A/N: I wish I could attach a soundtrack to this story. I have music picked out from other soundtracks (mostly the Piano and Last of the Mohicans) that would go well with the entire story, especially certain parts. It's all very moving and often melancholy, sort of like the story of the Elves who are fading. Then there's Enya's song, which always makes me feel depressed at the end of FotR, but it's a beautiful depressed. Does anyone know what I mean? Ah well, probably not, but that's how life goes. Still wishing for many reviews!!

  
  


Chapter 10

  
  


**Goddamn son of a bitch!** Miranda's mind bellowed. She wasn't referring to any one person in particular, but more to the situation in general. **Oh Legolas, you're soooo strong! Thanks for saving my life! Please, let me throw myself at you like some crazed teenage rock-fan and smooth down your body hair with my tongue!** she thought sarcastically. **Could I have come over ANY more desperate?** Flopping back onto the bed, she stared at the carved ceiling and breathed out heavily through her mouth, humming irritably.

"Something vexes you?" A soft voice queried from the shadows near the window. Her heart in her throat, Miranda sat up quickly, about to scream when the clouds parted to reveal Arwen sitting placidly on the bench.

"Christ in a handbag! You frightened me!" Miranda said breathlessly, half in English, half in Common Tongue. Arwen smiled at her quizzically and waited.

"I errrm...lost the cloak lent me in the river....it floated away and I was left, errm....And then Legolas was there...."Miranda shrugged sheepishly, her cheeks red with embarrassment. Arwen merely raised her eyebrows and motioned to clothing laid out on the end of Miranda's bed.

"I thought you might be lacking in proper attire," she said simply. "Shall I call a maid for your hair?" Miranda's hand went up to her hair involuntarily and her eyes found herself in the mirror, confirming her worst fears. 

**Obviously I'm not human, but some freakish creature with odd, frizzy wire for hair!** she thought dryly. "No, thank you. I can do it." Smiling slightly, Arwen took her leave and returned to....well, returned to whatever it is she does all day. Miranda hadn't quite figured it out.

The gown laid out was similar to something Miranda had seen before. In a museum. Behind glass. To see the ornate garments lying before her, shiny in their newness, was an experience. 

Awkwardly, she pulled on the first part, correctly guessing that the grey sheath that clung to her torso, but floated loosely around her ankles with enormous sleeves that hung down to her knees went on first. The second part consisted of an over-frock, more like a very long vest, in a heavily beaded green brocade. Both just touched the floor, leading her to believe that they had been shortened specifically for her. A tooled-silver chain wrapped loosely round her hips (not as loose as it should hang, Miranda noted, grimacing) and tied off, the tassels sweeping her knees. 

On a low table holding her wash basin and pitcher lay a brush and small combs. The brush appeared quite soft and Miranda laughed at it, for her hair would rip the short bristles out in one pass. She was surprised, however, as the Elven brush skimmed through her hair detangling it without the slightest effort. Sweeping back the sides, she let the rest hang freely and turned to examine herself in the mirror. She stood still a moment, surprised by what she saw.

**I look....beautiful! In manner of gorgeous-period-piece type film actress.** She thought, swishing the frock back and forth. **Too bad there's no Colin Firth or Jeremy Northam waiting downstairs to play my 'true love,'** she thought wryly and made a face at herself. The gown still pulled at the rear and bosom, but her face looked rosy and healthy, **like an ad for a hiking mini-break in Tuscany** she laughed and twirled, enjoying the way the dress belled out. She hadn't had a dress like that since she was ten.

Coming to a standstill, Miranda realized there were no shoes. Scanning the room, she found a pair of soft leather shoes, slippers really, lying half under the bed. Slipping them on, she was surprised to find them a perfect fit. **Somebody's been playing stalker!** she grinned, then left the room, heading for the main hall. 

At a landing near the stair case down the main level, an archway revealed both a cool breeze and a breath-taking view. The entire city was lit, glowing gently from numerous tiny lights. The sky above was inky black, studded with millions of tiny pinpoints of light, the clouds having floated off. In the distance, she could hear the river rushing swiftly past the base of mountains. The pathways round the Great Hall were carpeted in leaves of brilliant hues, yet the trees above did not appear to be missing even one leaf. Soft laughter and music could be heard, and Miranda could see an enormous fire blazing merrily in the far side of the Hall. 

Shaking her head at the sheer grandeur of the place, she hurried down the stairs and almost collided with Bilbo and Frodo. Bilbo, she knew, was Frodo's uncle and was observed with quite a lot of respect for some feat of heroism which she hadn't yet heard. He watched her curiously, however, and made her feel self-conscious, so she was relieved when they went to sit on the far side of the table with Lord Elrond and Arwen. Picking a seat next to Merry, she slid one hand over his eyes while whispering "Guess who?" into his ear. A surprisingly strong and stunningly fast grip seized her wrist, before Merry realized who she was.

"Miranda!" he cried, happily. "Come sit with us and we'll regale you with tales of the bravest Hobbit in all the land! " he continued, clasping her on the back and setting a mug of ale before her.

"Me!" clamored Pippin, swigging from a mug as big as his head. The two bickered merrily, which cheered Aragorn as he descended from an upper floor. The two had been so gloomy following the destruction of the Ring and the war, he had despaired of ever seeing them revert to their former boisterous selves. Placing himself next to Arwen, he joined in a friendly argument between Lord Elrond and Bilbo over where one could find the finest pipe-weed in all of Middle-Earth, but caught sight of Gimli and Legolas as they entered the Hall together. 

Aragorn watched as Legolas's eyes swept the hall and settled immediately on Miranda. Without taking his eyes off her, he moved in and sat beside her. Aragorn's eyes narrowed in amusement as he observed Legolas try to get Miranda's attention in subtle ways. Beyond greeting the Elf, however, her attention was focused on the Hobbits and more or less ignored Legolas. His delicate eyebrows drew together in confusion and he appeared put out by her lack of response. Murmuring in Arwen's ear, Aragorn nodded his head in the direction of Legolas and Miranda. Arwen, also, became amused after watching and whispered to her betrothed,

"Mayhap our arrogant friend has found a worthy adversary," she laughed softly and the two continued to watch throughout the night.

Near mid-night, the fire had burned low, and Elrond stood for a final toast to the remaining Fellowship.

"Tomorrow, many of our friends will leave us and return to their much-missed homes. Before they go, however, let us raise our glasses to them in honor of their courage, valor and self-lessness," Everyone raised a goblet or mug. 

"To the Fellowship; to those who are not here tonight; and to those who no longer walk this earth. May the tales of your bravery reach the far-corners of this earth and may you live out the rest of your years in peace and prosperity. And let this not be 'good-bye', but merely 'until next time.'" Every glass raised high in admiration and appreciation. Among the former Fellowship were many bright eyes and blinked back tears as they remembered their friends and comrades, fallen in battle.

As the hall began to empty, Miranda found herself seated at a table with the seven travelers she had arrived with. She watched as Arwen kissed Aragorn sweetly goodnight and returned her farewell. Miranda sighed in regret. She didn't know if somewhere there was a 'Mr. Miranda' waiting, worrying, wondering, but she doubted it. She felt very alone. 

**Maybe I'm just not the type,** she thought. **Maybe it's just not meant to happen.** Sighing, she lifted her goblet, enjoying the warmth settling in her stomach. The fire burned cozily in the hearth and they sat close around the short table, sometimes laughing, sometimes with tears. She sat quietly, listening as the seven talked of the recent war and something involving a ring. Miranda had heard snip-its of the tale and had put enough together to know that some terrible fate had been averted by these very people. As Gimli referred once again to the mysterious ring, Miranda spoke up,

"What did this ring have to do with the war?" Gimli looked up in surprise, having nearly forgotten she was there. The Hobbits and Aragorn exchanged looks, uncertain how to explain the entire story in only one short night.

"In truth, the tale begins and ends with Hobbits, it seems right they should tell the tale," Aragorn said, raising his glass to Frodo.

"I...I think tonight I'll let someone else speak," Frodo said softly, looking down at his hands. There was a moment of silence, then Legolas spoke,

"If it please you, then I shall tell the tale," the rest were struck by the uncharacteristic humbleness in his voice. Frodo nodded gratefully and sat back as Legolas spun the extraordinary tale in true Elven fashion. Miranda watched in fascination as his features became more animated than she had ever seen them. He spoke quietly and evenly of the events leading up to the attack on Mordor. Her eyes widened as she realized he was nearing three thousand years old! The numbers seemed impossible to her, her mind refused to wrap itself around the magnitude of three thousand years. The story of Gandalf the Grey, later Gandalf the White, made her blink in disbelief. A wizard? These things were real?

"It was then we heard the call of the Horn of Gondor and followed the sound to its source, but found Boromir already dead." Seven faces fell in sadness as they remembered their fallen companion.

"But I thought he was bad!" Miranda questioned. "He tried to steal the ring!" 

Aragorn spoke, then. "Yes, but you cannot imagine the pull of that ring. All of us felt it, felt it calling to us. Boromir loved his home-land above all else and thought only of his country-men, who died by the hundreds daily, protecting Gondor. With the ring, Boromir saw a brighter future for his people. He could not understand that the ring would corrupt even the truest heart, given a chance."

"In the end, though, he realized his error," Merry said shyly. "He fought with the strength and bravery of ten men to protect Pippin and me. It took three arrows to bring him down-" Merry broke off as tears threatened to fall. Miranda was unused to masculine emotion displayed so freely and wondered at the sort of person who might inspire such feelings. 

Legolas continued their story and as she watched, his face and voice grew rough with passion as he described the courage of the Hobbits, of the lady Eowyn and Merry's beloved Theoden. His eyes shone with pride as he regaled how Gimli slew thirty Orcs within as many minutes, then bellowed for more. He told of Aragorn's noble plea for help and the joy of seeing those great ships with the white flags sailing up the Great River. 

In the end, Sam took over, telling for the first time in depth of the trials they faced on their climb up Mt. Doom. Miranda felt sure he was down-playing his own role, but smiled as Sam ended,

"So down into the fires went that slimy old thing, Mr. Frodo's finger still in his black teeth," Sam shuddered. "I hope never to see such a horrible thing as long as I live!" He took a long drink of his ale, as if trying to dissipate the bad taste left by this Gollum-creature.

Miranda saw her new friends in a fresh light. She was amazed by their bravery and self-lessness. These creatures, scarcely larger than primary students, had saved their world from a terrible fate. She smiled gently at a pensive-looking Sam.

"I've never met a hero, before," she said. Sam blushed and ducked his head.

"Well, I don't know much about that. It was Mr. Frodo, it was, who was the hero. I was scared stiff the whole way, wishing I was back in my garden or safe in bed!" Sam cried.

"I'm no hero, either, Sam," Frodo said softly. "I was afraid the whole time and I gave in to the ring. If Gollum hadn't-" he broke off abruptly, staring into the fire. Silence descended around the table. Miranda racked her brain for a way to tactfully change the subject when a melodious voice near her murmured, 

"Perhaps you would care to share a tale of your people with us." Legolas watched her carefully, alert for any nuances or twitches. There was a possibility her memory loss was feigned to detract questions of her intentions. Though he did not believe her capable of such deception, and saw no reason for a possible deception, he had been entrusted by Lord Elrond to find out what he was able.

Miranda thought for a minute, then shook her head.

"I really can't- wait!" A phrase had popped into her head suddenly.

`Once upon a time," she spoke in English. They all exchanged looks.

"Sorry, I do not know how to say that in Common Speech. But I remember stories. Fairy tales, they're called," she took a sip of her wine and smiled as the rest settled back into comfortable story-listening postures.

"There was once a great kingdom, full of brave knights and a mighty king," she began, substituting English words when she didn't know the Westron word. But the others could work out the meaning of those words from the rest of the story. "This king grew old and his kingdom fell to ruin. The once chivalrous knights began to fight amongst themselves. The king had two sons, one a large, muscular man who was an unbeatable fighter, but cold and deceptive. The other son was little more than a boy, thin and studious. This younger one they called Wort, and he was sent away to study with a very old wizard. This wasn't just any wizard, however, he was the most powerful wizard ever. But for his extraordinary powers, he paid a price. He grew younger, not older. He appeared in the world quite old and knowing everything, and grew younger every year, while forgetting that which he once knew." 

Miranda paused and took another sip of wine, surreptitiously looking round the table. Merry and Pippin sat with arms on table, chin in hands, the others more relaxed, but all were eagerly awaiting the rest of the story. She was warm and slightly tipsy, and was strongly reminded of her years at University, sitting at the pub with friends on a rainy-night, telling of loves gained and lost, terrifying Professors and miraculous grades. She smiled to herself and continued telling the story of Arthur and Merlin, the Knights of the Round Table and of Camelot. 

"As the day dawned, dark and dreary, a roar went up as Sir Lancelot rode in on his mighty white steed to save his true love, Guinevere. Sweeping her majestically onto the horse, they escaped from Camelot, as over a thousand arrows flew at them, but not one reached its target. King Arthur's plan had worked and his beloved Guinevere was saved. They say you can still see them on clear, moonlit nights: a tall white horse carrying a brave knight with his love." She finished and saw several faces with clear tear-marks. Pippin couldn't take it anymore and he broke out,

"But why'd Arthur give her up? He loved her sa mooch!" Miranda was about to answer when Sam responded with:

"It was because he loved her that he let her go. He wanted more than anything for her to be happy, even if that wasn't with him!" He sniffed loudly and blew his nose into his shirt-sleeve.

Legolas shook himself imperceptibly. He had been more enraptured by her voice than ever before. Story-telling was beloved by all Elves, but was one of his particular passions. He had never met a human who held his attention so entirely and was slightly embarrassed that he had been so enthralled. He watched Miranda talking with the Hobbits and wondered what about this particular woman thrilled him so. He knew nothing about her, had known her for scarcely two months, but he felt something, something he hadn't felt in aeons.

The hour was now very late, and Pippin could not contain his yawns. Propping himself up, he smiled at Miranda sleepily.

"Nex' time, ^hic^ nex' time, I'LL tell YOU a story. A story aboot a great Hobbit who rode ta battle wi' his bravery an honor an naught else!" Frodo and Sam rolled their eyes, while Merry quipped,

"Ahhh, you're going to tell her about me?" Grumbling and shoving each other, the four headed up to bed. Aragorn caught Legolas watching Miranda and decided it best to leave. Encouraging a protesting Gimli to accompany him, Aragorn bowed over Miranda's hand and bade her farewell.

"I hope you will return with the little ones at New Year for the wedding. You would be well-received," he said. After saying good-bye to Gimli and watching the two leave, Miranda realized Legolas was still sitting beside her. She hadn't wanted to leave the comfort of the fire and table to return to her cold, empty bed, but had expected to remain alone. She looked at Legolas and said, rather uncomfortably, 

"So, errrmmm, Gimli told me that you and he were off to see some caves?"

"Yes," Legolas answered simply.

"So.....they're special because?" she trailed off.

"I am not entirely sure," Legolas said thoughtfully. "Gimli claims we are to visit caves of 'unimaginable beauty,' and that I shall be quite in 'awe' of Dwarven mining abilities." He smiled fondly, thinking of his friend.

"Talk about opposites attracting!" Miranda laughed. Legolas eyed her quizzically.

"I would gladly discuss whatever you like, but I do not think I understand 'opposites attracting?'" He said, having understood her literally. Miranda shook her head, laughing.

"No, I mean you and Gimli. I've heard from a number of people that the two of you weren't very....well, you weren't perhaps the very BEST of friends before. You must admit, you are ~quite~ different," she said.

"Are we?" Legolas asked curiously. "I admit, I do not understand Dwarves. They are so secretive, yet blunt. They hide away in the mine and are completely untrustworthy, yet they fight honorably and with extraordinary strength. I was taught by my people, that Dwarves could never be trusted, that they thought only of themselves and were greedy and selfish. I thought this of Gimli, when first we met. 

"But soon I discovered how very wrong I was. Many were the times Gimli stopped a blade from reaching me, or distracted an Orc about to attack. We slowly stopped our arguing and began to learn from one another. I learned-" He broke off, bemused. "Everything I had learned about Dwarves, was exactly what they learned about Elves!" He shook his head slightly, in disbelief. "He called me dishonest, self-serving and arrogant!"

Miranda smiled at that, but hid it with her hand. **Arrogant? Legolas? You must be kidding!** She thought sarcastically, but affectionately. Legolas appeared to have read her mind, though, and said calmly, 

"I understand you, as a human, may think me arrogant when I fail to deny ability or negate accomplishments. Your people thrive on false modesty, but mine see nothing wrong in accepting compliments or honor when they ring true. 

"We are faster, defter, more agile, and quieter than every other race. We are immune to disease and shoot more accurately than any others. This is not arrogance, it is truth." He spoke simply and without pretense, and she was surprised to notice he seemed almost pleading with her to understand. He looked very young in the firelight, his skin smooth and unlined, but his eyes were too calm, too self-aware to be young.

Miranda thought for a moment about what he'd said. She agreed with him in theory, but...

"I suppose so...."she said. Sensing he was fighting a losing battle (and Elves hate losing), he cannily changed the subject.

"Are you prepared for your journey to Hobbiton, then?" he asked. Relieved, Miranda began to talk about the trip preparations made by the Hobbits.

"They seem to have everything under control. I feel a bit useless, truth be told," she admitted. "I know nothing about planning journeys and I don't think I've ever really been an 'outdoorsy' sort. The idea of WALKING all the way there, which they said would take several weeks, is a bit intimidating." 

"True, if you are a lady of some far-off land, as we believe, you are most likely unused to traveling by foot. Perhaps Lord Elrond could arrange an equine ride for you. Rivendell ponies are much sought after, I have heard." He spoke earnestly, but she shook her head.

"No, I think if they can to it, I can do it! Besides, they're all so little, I'd feel foolish being so much larger than they. I already feel like an lumbering oaf among most of you!" She laughed. They sat quietly for a moment, but it was a comfortable quiet. They were at ease with each other and felt happy just sitting, watching the night-sky.

"Do you miss your home?" she asked quietly. He looked down at his hands and seemed somewhat uncertain.

"Yes, I miss the trees and the wind of my homeland. I miss the familiarity and unchangingness of it," he seemed to be skirting some issue, Miranda felt. He was still watching his hands, so she tried another tactic.

"Do you have a family?"

**I.e. Is there a Mrs. Legolas floating around out there?** She thought to herself. Legolas was about to say something when the last log in the fire broke in half with a large crack and subsided into embers and ashes. Miranda tried to contain her yawn, but couldn't. He was on his feet in an instant, offering her his hand.

"Many pardons, lady. I have kept you up long past the hour you should be in bed."

**Blimey, he's quick to get rid of me, isn't he! Maybe he's got a hot date with some Elvish maid...and here I've been yakking at him...** Embarrassed, Miranda stood quickly and awkwardly shook his hand. She missed his look of confusion, and didn't register that no one in Middle-Earth shook hands.

"Well then, its been real. I guess I'll see you again in the winter, or are you coming to the wedding?" Miranda said.

"I will attend, if my father can spare me, and of that there is little doubt," he said. She was too preoccupied to catch the faint bitterness in his voice. She said goodbye and quickly went upstairs, leaving him to gaze after her and wonder about the swift change in mood. 

Later, he was left wondering why, after looking forward to this trip with Gimli, he now wanted to remain at Rivendell and become better acquainted with the woman. Sighing silently, he decided he was nervous about his return to Mirkwood, now Greenwood, and was perhaps trying to prolong it. As the moon made its way across the night sky, the Elf remained in the hall and sat, deep in thought, until morning.

  
  


*****

  
  


Though Miranda woke very early the following morning, Legolas and Gimli had already left, and the Hobbits were having breakfast. She had been gifted with a traveling outfit consisting of breeches and over-tunic with a heavy woolen cloak and sturdy leather boots that felt light as air. A knapsack had been given her, filled with various dried fruits and meats and lembas, in addition to water-skins and a sleep-sack. 

Having said good-bye the night before, the Hobbits and Miranda left quickly and quietly, without fanfare. By midmorning, they were well away from Rivendell and stopped for a short break and 'elevenses.' Miranda sank to the ground and gratefully accepted the coffee and roll handed to her. By nightfall, she wearily sank into her sleep-sack and tried to get comfortable on the hard ground.

**Oh, God. We've only been at it for one day and I'm already exhausted. We've got nearly four weeks of travel left. THEY don't even seem to notice the fact we've been on our feet all day!** She thought, looking over at the Hobbits who were merrily having an after-dinner smoke. She had been surprised by the pace they kept, considering how short their legs were.

The next morning, Miranda arose stiff and sore. She was not cut out for the outdoors-life, but couldn't complain.

**For heaven's sake! If they can do it, I can do it!** Grabbing her pack, she called to the yellow dog with whom she was re-becoming friends, and followed the Hobbits. Over the next few weeks, she began noticing changes. Her legs no longer ached at the end of the day. Her blistered heels developed rough callouses and her soft hands gained scratches and callouses.

"Look!" A voice broke into her thoughts. "Bree!" Pippin's excited tones made Miranda look up. In the distance were the walls of a town.

"Tonight we'll sleep in beds and have a real meal!" Merry said dreamily. Sam looked a bit hurt at the 'real meal' bit, but forgot it in his excitement of a bed. A heavy rain was falling, and they hastened to the enormous gate.

Although all five pounded upon the door for several minutes, their calls went unanswered. Merry and Pippin exchanged a look, for they had expected a more welcoming greeting.

At last came the gate-keeper and smiled to see the familiar faces. They hurried to the Prancing Pony, though Sam was disheartened to see Bill Ferny's house dark and unkempt. He wondered what might have become of his dear pony?

At the Prancing Pony they were created with cheer by Mr. Butterbur, who kept his surprise at seeing a human woman traveling with them to himself. His anxious manner and careworn face did not escape Hobbit notice, however, and they wondered to themselves, what might be worrying him so.

After dinner, Butterbur returned and heard their tale, of the battles, of the Ring's demise, and finally, of their meeting Miranda. He muttered the occasional "You don't say!" but seemed rather pre-occupied. Finally he began to explain of the problems in Bree, of the disappearance of familiar faces and uncertainty of the terror that seemed barely held off. Before letting them to bed, however, Butterbur surprised Sam.

"If you'll wait a moment, I have something for you. He came back all alone, shaggy and thin as a rail, but alive, nonetheless."

"What! My Bill?" cried Sam. "Well, I was born lucky, whatever my gaffer may say. There's another wish come true! Where is he?" Sam would not go to bed until he had visited Bill in his stable. That night, they repacked their bags in preparation for the short trip home. As Frodo repacked his sack, he revealed a large, red leather-bound book.

"Is that....." Sam trailed off breathlessly. Frodo looked up and smiled sadly.

"Bilbo thought it best if I took it back to the Shire and finish it. He is tired and....well, he thought it best." Frodo shared with Sam his farewell from Bilbo and they both sat silently, thinking of their beloved friend.

Before they left Bree, Barliman made strange hints at all not being well in the Shire, but refused to elaborate. As the fivesome left, villagers were treated to the sight of Hobbits in armor, a woman dressed as a man, and two Hobbits walking sandwiched between a yellow dog and a shaggy pony. As they neared Hobbiton, talk arose of Tom Bombadil.

"I should dearly like to see the old fellow again," said Frodo wistfully. "I wonder how he is getting on?" They all agreed, and as the sun began to sink in the sky, stopped short of sight of the Brandywine.

"Well here we are, just the four of us who started out together.... and a guest," said Merry. "We have left the rest behind, one after another. It seems almost like a dream that has slowly faded."

"Not to me," said Frodo. "To me it feels more like falling asleep again."


	11. Chapter 11: Return to the Shire

Oh my god! Thank god it's finished! (This chapter, not the story!) Sorry it took so long, but this is the lovechild of a LOT of sleepless nights. I tried to follow the book as closely as possible and that took FOREVER! Anyway, that is finally over and I can get down to the good parts. Hope you enjoy, and please make use of that review button. I think it's a bit rusty.

  
  


Chapter 11

There was a gate barring the entrance to the bridge over the river Brandywine. The Hobbits stood stock-still, gazing at it dumbly. They exchanged looks. When had Hobbits begun erecting huge gates? And what's more- were they keeping people out or keeping people in?

Merry stepped up to the gate and pounded on it. After a moment voices shouted down telling them to go away and that no one was admitted after dark, couldn't they read the notice? Sam did not take well to this, and said,

"If Hobbits of the Shire are to be kept out in the wet on a night like this, I'll tear down your notice when I find it!" The normally calm Hobbit's agitated movements showed his state of mind. He had been looking forward to home so much, after having been a way a year, that to be held from his own home was simply not to be had. He rattled the bars harshly and Merry joined him. A group of Hobbits came out to see what was causing trouble, but their wariness and apparent fright were distinctly un-Hobbit like. Frodo felt a curl of apprehension in his stomach. What was going on?

Merry recognized one of those on the other side and called out to them. Though the other Hobbits realized that these travelers were indeed those gone missing the previous year, they made no move to open the gates.

"Stop gaping at me and open these bars!" Merry said. The other Hobbits were surprised at the commanding tone in young Merry's voice, but shook their heads.

"We 'ave our orders, and I don't want the Chief's Big Man coming down 'ere," one of them said. Merry huffed and said,

"Fine. Then we shall wake him in a way that shall surprise him," and motioning to Pippin, climbed the fence, amid loud shouts and horn soundings. Miranda stared, aghast, at the sight of her previously happy-go-lucky friends staring down a dumpy, ugly Hobbit on the other side. Merry forced him to open the gates and admit his companions. Once inside, he demanded lodging for the night.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Merry," said the Hobbit, "but it isn't allowed."

"What isn't allowed?"said Sam indignantly. The Hobbits stuttered and hemmed, but eventually they were put up in a mean little room. Miranda was rather surprised to be put in with the four Hobbits, but said nothing. She would rather not be separated from them now.

**From the way Frodo and Sam talked of the Shire, it seemed like such a warm, friendly place! Right now, I feel like I'm at an Agnés B warehouse sale.** Miranda thought to herself, then frowned. What was an Agnés B warehouse sale? She shook her head though, as she heard the murmuring voices around her.

"No welcome, no beer, no smoke, but a lot of orc-talk and rules. Let's sleep and forget it till morning!" Sam lay down and tried to close his eyes. The rest did the same, although Miranda's knees were even with the end of the bed. It was a very uncomfortable night.

The next day, they left early and made straight for Hobbiton. There was little talk. Though Miranda didn't understand what was going on, and was distinctly disconcerted with the looks given to her by passing Hobbits, she remained silent, trying not to make more trouble.

When they reached the town of Frogmorton, however, there was plenty of trouble to be had. A bunch of Hobbits stood guarding the road and when the travelers approached, one said:

"You're under arrest for Gate-breaking, and Tearing up of Rules, and assaulting Gate-Keepers, and Trespassing, and sleeping in Shire buildings without leave and bribing Guards with food."

"And what else?" said Frodo, trying not to smile.

"That'll do to go on with,"said the Hobbit, the Sherriff leader.

"I can add some more if you'd like," said Sam. "Calling your Chief names, Wishing to punch his Pimply face, and Thinking you Sherriffs look a lot of Tom-fools!" Miranda grinned in surprise at Sam's words, then hid it with a cough. Frodo laughed and said he was going to go about his business as he saw fit, but that they were tired and wanted a place for the night. Eventually, they were led to the Sherriff house.

They set off at ten the next morning for Bywater and were followed to the edge of town by groups of Hobbits staring at the strangers-such tall Hobbits dressed in armor and a human women! Their tongues were set waggling and stayed so for quite some time. A dozen Sherrifs were made to accompany them, but Merry made them march in front, while Frodo and his friends brought up the rear. 

Merry, Pippin and Sam talked and joked with Miranda, while Frodo remained rather sad and thoughtful, trying to piece together what had happened in the Shire in the past year. Whenever the Sherrifs stepped out line, it was Merry who ordered them back. Miranda was very impressed at this completely different side of Merry she was seeing.

At Three Farthing Stone, the Sherriffs, unused to such strenuous marching, gave out. 

"Well, come along in your own time!" said Merry. "We're going on!" The Sherriffs protested this half-heartedly, claiming they were breaking arrest, but did nothing to stop them.

As the sun began to sink, they reached Bywater. Sam and Frodo stopped, looks of horror of their faces at the ruin brought to the land. Houses they had once known were burnt to the ground, or had been looted and knocked down. 

Weeds grew waist-high and there wasn't a soul about. In the distance, at Bag End, they could see a thick column of black smoke. Miranda stood silent, her heart aching for her new friends. Tears trailed down their faces as they stared at the ruin. Sam finally couldn't take it and said he had to go up and find his gaffer.

"We'd better see what we're up against first. This 'Chief' could have a whole gang of ruffians waiting up there,"said Merry. But they couldn't find anyone to help them. When they reached the Green Dragon, however, the reason for the lack of Hobbits became clear. A dozen Men sat near it, dirty and rough-looking, clubs in hand. As the travelers came up, they stood and blocked the rode.

"Where d'ye think you're goin?" said one, the largest and most evil-looking of the crew, leering at Miranda. "There's no roads for you any further and where are the Sherriffs?"

The Hobbits closed in protectively around Miranda and explained that the Sherrifs had been foot sore and would be there presently. The ruffians did not appear pleased and told them that the Boss would not be pleased and they'd best watch their step. He kept mentioning someone named 'Sharkey'.

Frodo frowned and informed them of the fall of Mordor and the reinstatement of the heir of Gondor. The men appeared unimpressed and went so far as to call Frodo a 'little cock-a-whoop'. Pippin could no longer allow such names to be slurred on the Ring-bearer and drew himself up to his fullest height and said,

"I am a messenger of the king and you speak so ill to a friend of the king. Down on your knees and ask pardon or I will set this troll's bane on you!" He drew his sword, while the other three came up swiftly to back him. Miranda remained in the back, though she drew her own dagger.

**Please don't attack! Please don't attack!** she thought, as sweat beaded her forehead. She had been given the blade to defend herself, but had little clue as how to use it. The ruffians however, appeared shocked and not a little frightened by this queer sight. They were used to quiet timid Hobbits, not brave, confidant ones who pulled out bright blades and threatened them!

"Go!" said Merry. "If you trouble this village again, you will regret it!" The ruffians turned and fled. "Well, we've come back none too soon!" Miranda's face fell as guilt crawled up her spine. Was this her fault? The Hobbits had remained in Rivendell so long because of her. Might they have stopped whatever this was, had they returned sooner? She was given no chance to dwell on this, though. The Hobbits set off to free the Shire and their friends from this "Boss" and his followers.

"Sam, you make a dash for Farmer Cotton tell him we're returned!" The other three set off to round up as many Hobbits as they could find.

Sam gulped as he approached Farmer Cotton's burrow, Miranda in tow. In the excitement of the last week, thoughts Rose Cotton had been tucked carefully into a corner of his mind. They now came bounding up to the forefront, each clamoring for his attention. Would she be there? Would she be angry? Would she still want him? Did she ever really want him, or had he dreamed it up? He was thinking so hard, he tripped on the last step and almost fell face first into Rose, who had seen him coming and opened the door. 

Miranda reached out quickly, grabbed Sam by the neck of his greatcoat, and hauled him back upright. Rose stood very still, her mouth gaping in surprise. Then she caught herself, closed her mouth and folded her arms over her chest.

"So, you're back, then." She said. Her face betrayed nothing. Miranda realized this was the Hobbit-lass Sam had spoken (at some length) about. She was the same height as Sam, with dark brown curls tucked up in a kerchief. Miranda was smiling at this pretty, little Hobbit until her eyes reached Rose's feet. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the wide, large, Hobbit feet covered in more curly brown hair.

"Aye," said Sam. His eyes frantically searched Rose's face for some clue to her emotions. "Aye," he said again, louder. "We've come back. But there's trouble!" Rose's eyes settled for the first time on Miranda and narrowed as she saw the hand still resting on Sam's shoulder. She opened her mouth, when the door flew open wider.

"Is that Sam? Samwise Gamgee? Back from the dead?" said Farmer Cotton.

"It is, and Mr. Frodo and his friends too! We're raising the Shire to fight back against those Men!"

"Good, good!" said Cotton. "I've been itching to do this for some time, but there's always been the wife and Rose. But now you're here and the rest. Come on, lad! Let's go!" His pitchfork in hand, he took off down the stone steps, leaving the other three looking after him in surprise. Finally, Sam turned back to Rose.

"Rose, I, uhh...." he said.

"Come on, lad!" called an exasperated voice down a ways.

"I should go," Sam said quickly, turning and starting down the stairs.

"Sam!" called Rose. He turned. "Go on now. But take care and come back when you've done it!" She slammed the door closed. Sam turned back to Miranda, a wide smile on his face and they set off to find the rest.

When everyone had gathered in the village, there were more than a hundred Hobbits, clutching heavy hammers, axes, long knives and staves. Some even were equipped with hunting bows and kitchen knives. In the center burned a large bonfire, cheerily lighting the area and going against rules set out by the chief.

"Mr. Frodo?" said Sam. "Do you remember when we found Miranda? She said something in another language about the Shire?" Frodo's eyes widened. He had, in fact, forgotten that entirely.

"Errm, yes, Sam?"

"Well, do you think it might have been some sort of warning? We thought at the time, that she might have been threatening the Shire, maybe....maybe she was warning us of what was going on here!" Sam looked at Frodo, his brow furrowed in thought. 

"Could be, Sam. But how could she have known?" They had little time to consider it, however, as Tom Cotton came up and they discussed their plan of action. It was discovered that the Chief was up at Bag End, and usually had ten or so of the ruffians guarding him. The other ruffians were in the towns all along the road, maybe 300 in all. 

As Pippin left to gather the Tooks, the rest gathered near the fire to talk, until calls rang out, warning of approaching ruffians. The Men appeared, grizzled and greasy, looking at the Hobbits with a mixture of fear and dislike. The Hobbits opened the gates and followed the Men to the center of Hobbiton where stood old Cotton, leaning against his pitchfork.

"Who are you, and what d'you think you're doing?" said the leader of the ruffians.

"I was just about to ask you that,"said Cotton. "This isn't your land and you aren't welcome here!" The leader spit at the ground and smirked.

"Get boys and take him to the Lockholes." The Men started to follow orders but were brought up short. There was a roar all round them and they looked around in fright to see Hobbit faces rising from all around the town center, their faces dark and mutinous. There were nearly 200, all holding weapons. Merry stepped forward.

"We've met before. Put down your weapons, or they'll attack." He nodded at the circle of angry Hobbits. The Man looked frightened for a moment, then scoffed. They were so little! They wouldn't be a real fight.

"Have at it, lads!" he called out and moved to attack Merry. He had taken scarcely three steps before he lay dead, pierced by arrows. The rest gave in easily after that and were lead off and tied hand to foot.

"Seems a bit too easy, don't you think?" said Farmer Cotton. Miranda looked at him aghast. She had just seen a man murdered. In self defense, of course, but she had never before seen someone killed. Her stomach threatened to revolt, and she sat down, rubbing her hands against her face and feelings slightly guilty that she was glad the disgusting lech was dead.

"There's more,"said Merry. "But I think not till morning. Then we're going up to Bag End. Pay a little visit." He was clearly enjoying this, his little face alive and strong.

They all wound up in Farmer Cotton's kitchen where he explained to them what had happened to the Shire. Miranda caught snatches of talk, enough to understand that the Men were using the Hobbits like slaves, forcing them to give up their crops and their leaf, their beer and their food. Her eyes wandered around the house, surprised at how large it was, though with rather low ceilings.

The rooms were warm and cozy with paintings on the walls and home-spun blankets covering furniture. As soon as they sat, Rose and Mrs. Cotton had brought out food and drink, though they apologized for the small amount. 

**That's 'a bite?'** thought Miranda, eyeing the laden table. She caught Rose looking at her warily and smiled warmly, but Rose glared. Turning her attention back to the table, Miranda heard Merry say:

"Who's Sharkey?"

"The biggest 'un," said Cotton. He shook his head. "Appeared in these parts last September and took over Bag End. The other ones answer to him, I 'spect. Lot of burning and stealing. Now even killing. There's no sense to it! Cutting down all the trees, taking all the crops, burning the houses!" Cotton stood in anger, but was calmed by his wife. A heavy knock on the door surprised them and all faces turned towards the door.

Old Gamgee came hobbling in, a perturbed look on his grizzled face.

"Thought you might have let me known you were back, Sam," he said. "Had a grand adventure then, did you? Served you satisfactorily, Mr. Frodo?" He eyed Frodo.

"More than satisfactorily, Mr. Gamgee. In fact, songs and tales of his bravery and daring are being passed round as we speak." Frodo smiled at Sam, who ducked his head in embarrassment, but his ears went pink with pleasure. Rose's eyes slid to Sam, a look of wonder in them and she smiled.

"Hmmmph. Well and he should. He's a Gamgee," said the gaffer.

***********

Sam, Frodo and Miranda had bedded down with the Cottons that night. Rose placed Miranda's bed in her own room, on the far side of the door.

**Guess there'll be no night-time snogging with Sam,** she laughed to herself.

After breakfast the next morning, a messenger from Tookland rode in and told them that the Thain had risen up his people and run out the ruffians. He'd sent his son, Pippin, back with all the folk they could spare.

Merry, who'd been out all night rousing other Hobbit-folk didn't have such good news. He told them of a band only four miles off, a big one, and he wasn't sure if the Tooks would make it time.

He needn't have doubted Pippin, however, who came storming back with his brethren, his face serious, but he gave a short grin at Miranda with a little head shake, as if to say 'Can you believe it?'

By the time the Men had reached them, the Hobbits were lying in wait, a plan formed. As they came up the road, they reached a group of wagons blocking the road. With understanding slowly dawning, the realized their lefts and rights were blocked by enormous hedges and more wagons had been pushed in behind them, effectively trapping them.

"Well, looks like you're a bit stuck. Lay down your weapons and back away. Anyone who doesn't will be shot," Merry said, looking at the ruffians, a mirth-less smile on his face. Miranda had never seen the Hobbit look so fearsome. From her vantage point a bit away, she could see the standoff clearly, but was out of harm's way.

The ruffians laughed at the Hobbits and charged the wagons. The battle cry was sounded and the fighting began in earnest. It lasted a rather short time and by the end, seventy ruffians lay dead, a dozen more held prisoner. Nineteen Hobbits were dead, thirty lay wounded. Frodo, who had been in the battle, though hadn't drawn a sword, looked around in grim satisfaction. It was over. He turned to call to Sam, when his eyes landed on Miranda. She was sitting a bit away on the hill, her head between her bent knees. He frowned and made his way toward her.

Miranda willed her heart to slow and her head to top spinning. She had already lost the contents of her stomach and the uncontrollable sobbing had broken off to soft sniffs and coughs. 

**It's real. It's real,** she thought. As the fighting had begun and she'd seen Men and Hobbits killed, a strange realization had hit her. This was completely different than anything she'd ever seen. Until this point, she hadn't really taken anything seriously. The first death she had witnessed had made her sick, but nothing like this. She could smell the wood smoke from the fires, but overlying it was the metallic scent of blood. The figures lying out on the road looked so small, like children.

The worst part had been seeing Sam pulling out a sword and running a Man through. Intellectually, Miranda knew they were freeing their homeland and it was self-defense, but all her heart saw was her gentle friend murdering someone.

She had thought the battle would be an exciting adventure, and she had wanted to come along, some half-formed idea that she could protect her small friends, should they need it. Now, she sat still, shaken to her core and very cold. 

"Miranda?" said a soft voice near her ear. She picked up her head dazedly and looked at Frodo. She tried to smile.

"Are you alright? It's over," he said gently. He took her icy hand in his and held it. "It's over. Sam and Merry and Pippin are all safe, now. You're safe now." She shook her head to indicate that her own safety wasn't why she was so upset, but he misinterpreted it.

"Yes," he said. "Look, they're coming this way." He pointed down the hill where Sam, Merry and Pippin were coming towards them. Miranda stood, her hand still resting lifelessly in Frodo's and the five of them turned and made their way back to the Cottons. Once instead, while everyone sat down to lunch, Miranda had gone to her sleep-sack, lain down, and fell into a dark, dreamless sleep. She woke feeling drained and still tired. The light from the window was gone and she thought she must have slept for several hours. Her stomach rumbled and she was surprised to realize she was hungry. Pushing aside thoughts of what she'd seen that morning, she stumbled into the hall and was again surprised to see the kitchen filled with Hobbits. Had she not slept very long after all?

"Miranda!" called out Pippin. "Are ye feelin' better then?" He smiled at her sweetly and she nodded. Everyone was talking, it was easiest to sit quietly at the edge of the room. She gratefully accept a mug from Rose and sipped the hot tea. She looked up as Pippin made his way to her and sat down.

"So you missed the real fun," he said. She looked up. "This morning we went up-" 

"What do you mean, this morning?" she interrupted. "I saw the battle." He shook his head.

"No' the battle, lass! Ye fell asleep after the battle an slept the ni' through!" he said. She looked at him incredulously.

"Yep," he said. "So this morning we went to Bag End. 'Twas not a pretty sight." His eyes fell, and the rest of the room grew still, remembering the road as it had been and as it was now. 

"We rescued the prisoners and brought down that horrible building. But then...." Sam said. He shivered.

"We met up with Saruman," said Merry grimly.

"Saruman?" said Miranda, confused. "You mean that wizard?" They nodded and she looked even more confused.

"It was his doing turned the Shire into a horrible place!" said Merry angrily. He and Pippin then explained the events that transpired leading up to the death of Wormtongue and the escape of a now powerless Saruman.

"You shouldn't have let him go," said Sam darkly. Frodo looked at him.

"He hasn't any powers left, Sam. He's harmless now." The rest thought this over for a moment until Miranda said,

"So its all over now, then?" Sam shrugged slightly.

"Not until we've cleaned up the Shire and made everything right again." Everyone nodded in agreement. The rest of the night passed soberly, and the moon rose high into the night.

  
  


********

  
  


In the furthest eastern and southern part of Middle Earth stood an enormous mountain. It was a strange sight, for it stood quite alone, surrounded by a deep forest. Though it appeared to be a mountain like any other, it had secrets. No Dwarf had ever set foot in this place, yet the inside was hollow. Deep within its bowels was a large room cut into the stone. Grand hallways and tiny passageways, once lit with bright fires, were now dark and dank. The air was oppressive and stale. If one became lost in their mazes, they would most likely never return.

Gandalf was creeping down a narrow passageway, his eyes focused on the huge black wolf he had trailed for nearly two three weeks. Since the fall of Mordor, he had been looking for every last trace of the Dark Lord's magic. Remnants were left all over Middle Earth and his senses told him, this was not a normal wolf.

He still had not found Saruman, either. Gandalf felt little fear, however, for Saruman was now powerless and friendless. He had sent a messenger to warn Aragorn though, for Saruman had sworn revenge on the ranger. 

He came suddenly into the stone room and found it empty. As he came into it fully though, a low growl came from behind him, causing him to turn in surprise and alarm. He pulled his staff back, preparing to defend himself, when an extraordinary thing happened. The black wolf began to change. It grew taller, its legs lengthening, its great paws turning into hands and feet. The black pelt fell away except for on the head, where it grew long and soft. The creature looked at him, its blue eyes dark and deep.

Gandalf stood still in shock. It was an Elf; her pale skin contrasting with her midnight hair, but detracting from her beauty. She fell to her knees with a groan and Gandalf came forward, thinking perhaps a curse had befallen her. He reached out a hand saying,

"Are you well?" As his hand connected with her shoulder, her own hand shot out and clamped onto his wrist. A freezing sensation sped from his wrist up his arm to his shoulder. Her eyes met his and she smiled maliciously, standing up. Gandalf could no longer feel the right side of his body.

"You should have known better," she said, her voice unpleasantly high. "You were careless, wizard. You forget that some things are older than even you. Did you think the Dark Lord was all that was left?" By now she had pushed him against a wall and his vision blurred as a clear wall of crystal formed in front and to his sides. "I have waited, biding my time, through the ages until I could again reveal myself. Until I could regain my strength. Why do you always think it is the Lords who you must fear? A mother is far more dangerous than any dark lord. I need the heart of the Star to return to my former glory. This earth is mine and when the time is right, I will reclaim it." Gandalf could see her through the crystal, but could no longer hear anything. He cursed his own stupidity and suddenly his world went black.

  
  



	12. Chapter 12: Life as Usual

Thank you all very much for the reviews, especially OverCastDay (who has a terrific story by the way!) and Kim. Its great to know people are actually reading. I had thought to turn this into two chapters, but what they hey.

  
  


Chapter 12

  
  


Miranda awoke slowly, savoring the cocooned warmth of her bed, though her left leg ached from being curled up beneath her and her right from hanging off the bed onto the floor. **Definitely time to think about getting a human sized bed!** she thought wryly, and buried her nose, which had become icy in the morning cold, back beneath the covers.

It was the end of November. The sky was a brilliant, unrelieved blue. Though Frodo assured Miranda that they never received snow before January, the air was frigidly cold every morning. She continued to be amazed at the clothes given to her by the Elves. Though they were made of the finest, thinnest leather, she scarcely felt the cold when wearing them. 

Accompanied by a heavy, albeit short, woollen cloak, she was happy to be out of doors with Sam, replanting trees up and down the road for miles. She had first questioned this practice, thinking the seeds would freeze, but Sam assured her the time was right, for the seeds would burrow deep into the ground and build roots before making an appearance above ground in the spring.

Life in the Shire was slowly turning back to normal. Miranda's eyes had widened after the first town meeting at Bag End, when everyone formed groups and began rebuilding homes. Though easy-going and fun-loving, when there was work to be done, it was done efficiently and quickly. Her height made her an advantage in re-roofing, and she would scarce finish when job, when another was waiting.

Each trip with Sam lasted only a few days and in her down time, Miranda was happy to sit with Frodo by the hearth and have her lessons. Along with the younger Hobbits, Miranda sat and learned her history and writing, music and cooking. 

******

Miranda sat up reluctantly and pulled the quilt around her. She really ought to get up. Then again, judging by the silence in the rest of the burrow, no one was up. She thought of the previous night and grinned.

A festival had been prepared to celebrate the return of freedom and to honor fallen friends and family. There had been a ceremony in the beginning, sober with many tears as they remembered those who had died in battle or in imprisonment. Hobbits were by nature, though, a rather optimistic group, and by the end of the last lament the kegs were tapped, the food was served, and merriness abounded.

Another bonfire was lit, which provided warmth in the chilly evening. The ale did its share. Off in a corner, Miranda heard Pippin and Merry speak with proper reverence of that mythical beast called a 'Pint.' Their audience was transfixed.

The most extraordinary thing, however, occurred just out of sight in the tent that had been set up to act as a kitchen. Miranda had just ducked down to find a pot for the ale keg which was leaking (no sense wasting it!), when she heard voices and could just see four Hobbit feet not three feet away on the other side of several shelves. She was about to stand up when she realized what they were saying.

"Well then, Sam. Say what you have to say. I've plenty yet to do!" said Rosie shortly. There was a sound of a throat clearing and the large toe of one of the feet began scuffing awkwardly at the ground.

"I...erm....Rosie, you know that I..." Sam started.

"Yes?" said Rose. Her voice, Miranda noted, had changed abruptly and was soft and encouraging.

"You know that it weren't my idea, running off with Mr. Frodo like that, without saying anything. I meant to come and see you and all first, but then...there wasn't any time, then we were gone, and then when we got back, I wasn't sure what to do.. .. And then since I've been back you've seemed to be avoiding me and I thought maybe you might have met someone else, or decided that you didn't want someone who went adventuring. But what I wanted to say was...." There was a pause, a cough and then:

"RoseCottonwillyoumarryme?" Silence greeted this. Miranda heard Sam sniff sadly and say, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I'm not good enough for you and I'm only a gardener and I don't even really have a home of my own yet and I've nothing to give you and no land 

and-" He was cut off abruptly. Miranda was confused until she heard the unmistakable sound of a long kiss. Stifling her joyful laugh with her hands, she rejoiced inside.

"Well you certainly took long enough!" Rose said sharply, though a definite trace of tears was evident in her voice. "I didn't like you leaving me at all, but you hadn't spoken then, so I didn't feel it was my place. And I thought maybe you were too grand now, for a farmer's daughter from the Shire."

"I love you, lass," he said tenderly.

"And I you, Samwise Gamgee," said Rose. Again, Miranda had a pretty good idea of why there was no more talking and she squirmed slightly in embarrassment, not wanting to eavesdrop on their private moment, but having no recourse.

Suddenly the tent flap was listed and whistling began, then clapping. Miranda peered over the top of a shelf to see half of Hobbiton looking in and cheering. Pippin and Merry stood holding the tent flaps up, and Sam and Rose held tightly to one another, grinning out at the crowd. The party had turned even more raucous after that. Miranda was asked to dance any number of times, but she refused, feeling that she would look quite foolish dancing with a Hobbit. She was content to relax on a bench, a mug in by her arm and a smile on her face, her foot tapping in time with the music. She never saw it coming.

Two strong hands grabbed her own two and two more gave a hearty push from behind and she found herself pulled to her feet and being twirled around the dance floor. The top of Merry's head just cleared her clavicle, which meant-- She looked down. Sure enough, his eyes were right even with her breasts. 

He looked up at her, winked and grinned lasciviously, or as near as he could make it. She threw back her head and laughed, knowing he was only having a bit of fun. Though she was unfamiliar with the steps, he guided her expertly, and she found herself laughing with gladness as she was whirled around and around. When the fiddles stopped, she stopped for a breather, but was immediately pulled back out, this time with Pippin.

"This is an ole Took song, it is! Follow my lead!" With that he proceeded to do a series of complicated steps. By the end of the evening, she was light headed with drink and happiness. She had danced with any number of Hobbits, though after Merry and Pippin, they seemed to be getting smaller and smaller, till their heads only reached her waist. She didn't mind, though, for it was the most fun she'd had in a long time. And even those who were wary of another human in their midst smiled to see Miranda whirled around by the Gaffer, his arms above his head to reach her hands held waist high.

As she fell, out of breath and laughing, onto a bench, she couldn't help wishing that a certain someone had been there.

******

Miranda grinned again at the memory and wondered how Sam's poor head was feeling right now. As she stood up, a soft knocking came at the heavy wooden door. 

**A Hobbit up and about at this time of the morning?** The morning mist had yet to dissipate and the sun was barely visible over the horizon. Peering through the round window tot he left of the door, she saw someone standing outside. A tall someone, wearing a jerkin similar to her own.

**Legolas!** She thought excitedly and swung open the door. It was indeed an Elf, however her face fell, as she registered the flowing dark hair and foreign face. Was it male or female? The face frowned at her and said,

"Frodo Baggins of Bag End, Hobbiton?" The low, smooth voice revealed the Elf's sex and it took Miranda a moment to realize he had asked a question. She grinned, a bit stupidly, and shook her head.

"I believe he's still asleep. Shall I wake him?" The Elf sniffed haughtily and shook his head once.

"No need. I am simply to deliver this missive. Would you see that he gets it upon awaking?" The voice was quite derisive now, and Miranda felt her own hackles rising. Who was he to judge the sleeping habits of Hobbits? Her disappointment in not seeing Legolas also played into her rude response. Taking the letter he offered, she said,

"Good day." And shut the door. She returned to the kitchen and laid a fire in the hearth. Though it still took several attempts to light, she was becoming more proficient. Sitting at the round table, she eyed the letter. It was sealed with wax, and though she couldn't make out the words, she recognized Elven script.

"Good morning," said a voice to her right. Frodo wandered in, still dressed in his nightshirt and robe, scratching his head sleepily. He caught sight of the letter in her hands and looked quizzical

"What's that?" She held out the letter and he took and opened it. He read it and frowned.

"Bad news?" she asked. He shrugged slightly.

"It's from the Lady of Rivendell-Arwen. She says Strider-er- Aragorn must return to Minas Tirith. Some urgent business. An uprising of sorts. She sent a messenger to tell us ere we set out. We are invited to return in summer. The wedding will take place on Midsummer's Day." He wandered over to a chair and sat down rereading the letter. 

Miranda felt a strong sense of disappointment, which she didn't understand at first. Then it hit her. She had been looking forward to seeing Legolas again. Though she had tried her best not to think of the Elf for the past few weeks, he was ever on her mind. And now she wouldn't be seeing him till summer.

By the end of the year, Miranda continued to find her place in Shire life. At first the majority of Hobbits were frightened and wary of her. She was, after all, a member of the race that had enslaved and killed many of them. As the weeks went by, though, they began casting fewer glares in her direction and some were even brave enough to give the yellow dog a pat on her large head, though most continued to avoid her. There were those who befriended her, as they admired and respected Frodo and Merry Brandybuck, a friend of their's must indeed be worth knowing. But Rose Cotton was one of those who chose to avoid her. She was clearly not convinced that Miranda harbored no designs on Sam Gamgee. Rose's tendency was to turn and go the other way when she caught sight of Miranda. Until the morning Sam, who was staying at Bag End until the wedding was awakened by odd sounds. Stumbling to the kitchen, he was greeted with the odd sight of Miranda trying to fit her bed sheets into the large pot over a low fire. The cauldron, as it might be called, was not the one normally used for laundry, as a local woman had done the Baggins' wash for years.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked mildly. Miranda whipped around, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. She was wearing an odd dress, created for her by Shire women who felt she could not go around in breeches. Miranda had laughed and tucked it away. Now she wore it and Sam began to suspect something was going on.

"Little accident, errm....no big concern, really. Just thought, uhhh...clean sheets would be nice and all..." Her face was now flaming red and Sam was very confused. Going over to the cauldron, he began to tug on the breeches sticking out saying,

"Well its really no trouble to send them out to the wash-women. This pot isn't really big enough and-" he stopped abruptly as Miranda's hand grabbed his and gently, but forcefully pushed it away. After a short game of tug-of-war, the truth spilled out and Sam felt his own cheeks grow warm with laughter.

Miranda has woken to find her sheets and trousers smeared red with blood. Though it was surprising, she knew what it was. What confused her was how to stop it and why it had not occurred in the past three months. Too embarrassed to ask Frodo, she had tried to rip bits of cloth from the only clothing she had left: her cloak. Elven stitching proved to be too much and she was left in a lurch. Hiding a smile, Sam accompanied her to the Cotton Farm, where he waited outside while she had a short, tense meeting with Rose Cotton. From that point on, Rose was noticeably friendlier toward Miranda, though Miranda still thought it best to sit near Frodo at the Green Dragon, than by Sam.

The rest of the year was spent quietly, with Miranda becoming ever more comfortable in Hobbiton. Frodo was her biggest concern. Though he was polite enough, he tended to keep to himself. As time went on, however, she wore him down with friendly advances. Eventually, evening invariably found them in old wingback chairs by the hearth. Sam was there more often than not, and Pippin and Merry never went more than a fortnight without coming by. All in all it was a happy existence. The one note marring her happiness was an ever-present regret. Though she was coming to care for her new friends greatly, she wondered yet at her life before this. Occasional dreams revealed familiar faces, faces that called to her, but disappeared when she tried to touch them. She woke on more than one occasion with damp spots on her pillow from tears shed in the night. Upon awakening, the dreams faded swiftly and she was left without any more knowledge as to her history.

As time went on, she was able to put these feelings into the back of her mind. Other thoughts, more applicable to daily life took precedence On the morning of March 13th, she awoke to a strange sound - silence. Frodo usually woke first and had first breakfast while working on his book for a bit. By second breakfast, Miranda would find him setting out bread and cheese on the kitchen table. The sun was nearly midday in the sky and she wondered why there had been no knock at her door, no humming coming from the kitchen. Pulling on her breeches and tunic, she stepped barefoot into the hallway. The air was chilly; no fire had been lit. Crossing to Frodo's door, she listened and then knocked gently. A quiet moan answered her. Opening the door, she was frightened to see him curled up on the floor by his bed, clutching the white gem he wore round his neck. His face was deathly white and tiny lines of pain radiated from his eyes and mouth. 

"Frodo?" she said. She quickly crossed the room and knelt by his side.

"It is gone for ever. And now all is dark and empty." Frodo stared into space as if in dream. Wondering at how light he was, Miranda scooped up the Hobbit and gently returned him to bed. He neither spoke nor slept for the remainder of the night. Unsure of what to do, Miranda decided to fetch help if he was no better the next day. He had awakened early the next morning and made light of his sickness. Before letting her leave the room, however, Frodo made her promise not to reveal to Sam or anyone else what had happened. 

Before she knew it, the snow had melted away, leaving young buds and greenery in its place. This incident slipped her mind and on the first of May, she sat between Merry and Frodo, clutching Merry's hand and holding back tears as Samwise Gamgee pledged his undying love for Rose Cotton. On the sixth of May, Miranda was wakened by impish voices near her ear.

"The sun is risen and the day is bright, the leaves are blooming and all is right!" sang Pippin as he threw open the curtains.

"Come, fair lady, today we ride to meet thy king!" This, Merry intoned in a mock-serious voice, going down on one knee and spreading wide his arms. Behind him, Pippin struck his fist against his breast, and posed nobly. The effect was ruined, however, by Sam peering through the window and saying,

"What are you two playing at? Where's Mr. Frodo? We should have been on the road an hour already!" He hurried round to the door and pushed it open, then knocked on Frodo's door shouting, "Mr. Frodo! Wake up! Its nearly midday!" Pippin and Merry looked at out at the sun, which was only halfway to being overhead and then looked at each other, grinning. A series of thuds, a loud crash and a soft curse came from the direction of Frodo's chamber, and as the other four bit back grins, a harried-looking Frodo came stumbling out, limping and buttoning his shirt. His curly hair was more rumpled than normal and red sleep lines criss-crossed his left cheek.

Unable to contain their merriment any longer, Merry, Pippin, Sam and Miranda began to laugh uproariously, slapping knees and crying into one another's shoulders as Frodo looked on in confusion. It slowly dawned on him that he'd been had and, in mock anger, he placed his hands on hips and pointed toward the door.

"Out! All of you out! No breakfast this morning!" This made the Hobbits take notice and their laughter immediately quieted to an occasional hiccup. 

By the real midday, five ponies and a small horse stood out on the road, along with one woman and four impatient Hobbits and Maggie.

"Pippin!" roared Merry for the third time. "If you don't come out right this instant, we'll leave you behind!" A cheery face appeared at the door, and he came out, struggling with several bags and an oddly-shaped something, wrapped in paper.

"What is that?" asked Merry, pointing.

"Present!" said Pippin, happily. "Can't come without gifts, can you?"

"Meaning no offense, but its not a pipe, is it?" asked Sam, dubiously. Pippin grinned at Sam and mounted his pony saying, 

"It's something no married man should be without!" And with that, they set off; Merry leading the way. Behind Frodo and Miranda, Sam and Rosie came, talking of the Elves. They had been invited personally by Aragorn, to spend their wedding celebration days at Rivendell. Rose, who had never seen an Elf, was beside herself with happiness. Frodo was happy about seeing Bilbo again, and Miranda was hoping to see a certain pointy-eared someone.

Their traveling time was much truncated being mounted and they reached Rivendell May 29th. There, they were greeted by both Lord Elrond and Aragorn. They were shown to their rooms, Miranda keeping an eye out for Legolas the whole time. She was disappointed however, to learn that he and Gimli had not yet arrived. Much of that evening was devoted to Bilbo, who, while looking a bit moth-eaten, still was mostly lucid and requested the whole tale of the Scouring of the Shire.

Early the next morning, Miranda slipped out of bed with the intention of finding someplace to wash.

**Three weeks on horseback doesn't exactly do wonders for the smell, does it?** she thought wryly as she noticed a large smear of dirt across her nose. As she came down the path toward the river, she ran into Aragorn and two tall, dark-haired strangers. Aragorn's stern face relaxed into a welcoming smile and he bowed over her hand.

"My Lady, welcome back to Imladris,"he said. "May I introduce you to Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Lord Elrond?" The two Elves bowed and Miranda smiled at them.

"No, no family resemblance there!" she teased, as they were the mirror image of their father. They looked at her solemnly, but made no reply.

**Note to self: Elves have no sense of humor.** Feeling rebuffed and oddly out of place by their other-worldly beauty, Miranda turned to Aragorn and, nodding to his bow, said lamely, 

"Going hunting?" He nodded, and sensing her discomfort, asked:

"Are you familiar with the bow?" at the shake of her head, he continued, "Would you like to learn?" Miranda was surprised, as were the sons of Elrond. Her loud human ways would most likely give away their position. Aragorn, however, recognized the feeling of being out of place, evident in Miranda's face and was reminded of his youth in Imladris. Though for a man he was skilled and accomplished, by Elven standards he was loud and clumsy. He knew what it was like to be an outsider. He was also curious about her history and her life in the Shire. The idea of a human woman living comfortably with the Hobbits seemed absurd to many and even a bit odd to Aragorn who held Hobbits in the highest esteem.

As the sun rose over the mountains, Aragorn showed Miranda how to hold a bow. Elladan demonstrated how to walk soundlessly, though Miranda thought herself hopeless at it and Elrohir agreed. Turning her nose up at him, she goose-stepped behind him, her nose in the air, in an ungracious, but accurate caricature. Aragorn bit his lip to keep from laughing and had to begin coughing when Miranda used a nearby puddle to preen. By the time they had caught enough for the evening meal, Aragorn allowed Miranda to shoot using his own bow. She aligned the arrow and let fly. It went wildly off its mark and a loud grunt stirred the still morning air.

Coming up the hill were Legolas and Gimli, the latter glaring accusingly at Miranda.

"My nose narrowly escaped your arrow! You would do to be more cautious in loosing them!" The growling voice was accompanied by bright eyes hidden behind thick, bristly brows. Miranda had dropped the bow in shock, she now picked it up, laughing heartily and brushing leaves from her hair.

"Your nose would be none the worse with a bit of it missing, I fear," Legolas said, smiling at Miranda. She was surprised at his sudden appearance and at his appearance over all. In her mind, she remembered him as being very attractive and he was. But she had forgotten that light and inhuman beauty that he had. All the clever greetings she had thought out flew from her head and she grunted a bit dumbly at him. He looked at her curiously, but turned to greet Aragorn warmly.

"And how were the Glittering caves?" asked Aragorn, his eyes twinkling at Gimli.

"Truly I have seen beauty unequaled. They were everything Gimli claimed and more. My time was not wasted. Though you still might find this Elf in surprise that a truth should cross a Dwarf's tongue," answered Legolas. 

"And you may find this Dwarf still surprised that one as thick-headed as an Elf would know enough to appreciate such beauty when it is beholden." Gimli and Legolas continued their bickering as they began toward the City. Miranda followed with Aragorn, hauling several dead rabbits over her shoulder.

**Why is it only in novels that you meet your man dressed in beautiful gowns with flowing hair and flawless skin? In real life you're dirty, sweaty, dressed in stained breeches and carrying bloody vermin!** She sighed and began the short decent to the valley. 

Though Legolas continued to tell his tale to Aragorn, his eyes often drifted back toward Miranda. She was filthy and smelled quite a lot and her clothing oddly crafted, plus she had twigs in her hair. But she was so alive! Her eyes were bright, her hair was wild and she laughed without care. He could not help but admire this display and found her smile infectious. He suddenly realized Gimli had asked him a question.

"Forgive me, Master Dwarf, my attention was on a wren in the tree there," he said. 

"A bit too colorful for a wren, with all that hair, don't you think? A bit louder, as well," Gimli answered. Legolas's eyes flew to Gimli's and saw his friend biting back laughter. His eyes narrowed.

"I haven't any idea to your meaning. Now if you do not mind, I shall greet our host," Legolas said. Gimli hid a smile at the stiffness in Legolas's voice and turned to greet Elrond.

  
  


************

"Did ye bring no leave any books in the Brandybuck library then, Merry?" asked Pippin. He heaved the knapsack onto the bed and glared at Merry. Merry smiled and began pulling large tomes out of the sack. Across the hall, Frodo and Sam washed weary feet.

"I need help finishing my 'Languages of Middle-Earth,'" he said. Pointing to Pippin's own sack, "Yours was none too light either. You do realize Elves eat? There will be food here?"

Pippin shrugged happily and unloaded the loaves of bread tucked into kerchiefs.

"Yeh, Merry, but only thrice daily! You willna want me wasting away?" Merry snorted at this and one of the books slid off the bed.

"Now look at what you've done!" he said. As he bent over to peer under the bed, dust and the brown cover greeted him. As he pulled it out, however, a strip of leather caught his eye.

"What's this?" he asked, pulling at it. To his surprise, it was attached to a large brown leather bag. He pulled it out and dusted off the top, his eyes growing bigger.

"Pippin! Isn't this the sack Miranda had with her in the forest?" Coming over to the bed, Pippin's own eyes widened and he nodded excitedly.

"I clean forgot about tha! Do you reckon its bin under there this whole time?" he said, starting to rummage through the bag. He stopped, as Merry's hand connected sharply with the back of his head.

"Out of there! You may as well bring it down to supper and return it to its rightful owner! However did it get way under a rarely used bed?" Merry asked softly as he headed to the wash-basin. Pippin's ear turned red and he ducked to avoid reflecting his guilty look in the mirror. He'd only wanted a peak at the human gadgets, but then Bilbo had come in and.....

  
  


***********

  
  


"So you have survived life with our Halflings, then?" said a soft voice. Miranda turned abruptly from her place at the balcony overlooking the Great Hall and couldn't help smiling. Reflected against the setting sun, he glowed orange, his face dark and evil.

**Always one for the bad-boy,** she thought.

"Yes, although I wasn't quite sure at first I'd make it through the nights. Have you heard a Hobbit snore?" she answered, grinning.

"If it were even half so loud as a Dwarf, I would indeed offer my condolences," Legolas smiled at her in return and offered his arm. Together they started slowly for the Hall.

"That and trying to fit both myself and Maggie into a Hobbit-sized bed!" Legolas was suddenly struck by an image of Miranda lying in bed, her arms outstretched, reaching for him, twigs in her hair. This image surprised him so much that he stumbled and caught her hand as it grabbed his shoulder. He was struck anew by the heat of her. He looked down from his superior height. It was rare in the Elven world, for males and females were usually of a height, but he towered over her. AS she gazed up at him, he wondered what it might feel like to take her into his arms, how warm and soft she would be.

Miranda stared up at Legolas, wondering what was going through his mind. He was eyeing her quite strangely. Her breathe quickened and she felt suddenly nervous. He was leaning toward her. Her eyes focused in on his lips that were so close and her eyes fluttered as he-

-reached out and removed a leaf from her hair. Taking a deep breath and a step back, Miranda cursed herself for her stupidity and stubbornness. 

**Obviously he wasn't going to kiss you. You barely know each other and he's beautiful and you're....well.....not,** she thought and wished suddenly that she'd worn the gown laid out on her bed, instead of the comfortable leather trousers and tunic. 

"We should go eat," she said and hurried off.

Legolas was surprised to feel his heart beating rapidly. He had not felt it so strongly since the last battle at Minas Tirith. He wondered why she had spooked like a deer in the forest, why she had left so suddenly. Had he frightened her? Bored her perhaps? She was used to human life, full of comings and goings. They were bright, vibrant beings. Not quiet and thoughtful. Though a bit more lively than Rivendell Elves, the folk of his home were still too stifling for Legolas. They disliked change and were content to enjoy what they had created. And soon they would leave. And he in turn, he mused, was too quiet for someone as alive as Miranda. He sighed and leaned against the balcony as the sun dipped below the green mountains. He missed trees. The deep, heavy forests of Mirkwood, now again Greenwood, where each towering mammoth would reveal its own secrets, given a sympathetic ear. Imladris was fair and a testament to the skill of Elven craftsman, but too grand and still. He missed the life of the forest. Rivendell's time was over and it was fading. 

A loud sound, unusual and new rang from the Hall. A sudden shriek followed it.

**Miranda!** he thought illogically, and raced toward the Hall.


	13. Chapter 13: Marcel Proust

Thanks for the reviews. I think I'm getting a big head! (Kim, have you posted on ff? I'd love to read your writings.) Except I want more. Did we all see Two Towers? Sigh.....loved it so much. Once I got over the character-massacre and murder of my beautiful Haldir. But lovely. 

  
  


Sigh..... Wish I could film this....Know the scene where Legolas says "Would you like me to describe it to you, or shall I fetch a box" to Gimli? Not to turn into some blathering teeny-bopper, but his eyes were incredible. Quite inspiring for the writing bit. Anyone out there understanding me?

  
  


Chapter 13

  
  


The Great Hall of Rivendell consisted of several levels built into a cliff overlooking the river. The lowest level, constructed entirely of a dark, hard stone, held a hall where evening meals were held. The upper levels were of a softer sandstone with paintings of Elvish history and legend covering the walls in most places. These upper levels looked out over the lower ones, and minstrels were setting up delicate stringed instruments as Miranda ran into the Hall. She stopped abruptly just before colliding into Aragorn, who stood with Lord Elrond near the entrance. They did a sort of half dance to maintain footing. Miranda's heart beat uncomfortably swiftly. Both men eyed her curiously, but ignored her strange behavior.

"Good evening," said Elrond, bowing. Miranda gave him the best smile she could manage and found herself doing a sort of curtsey and head bob.

"Is the lady Arwen not yet here?" she asked for lack of conversation. Aragorn shook his head.

"She has journeyed to the east, to Lorien, to be with her mother's people before the wedding. It is custom," he said. 

"Ahhh." Miranda nodded her head and tried to think of something to say. Lord Elrond was eyeing her warily and Aragorn seemed hard-put not to laugh.

" It may yet be some time ere the others arrive. Shall I show you the Hall, Lady?" asked Elrond. Miranda nodded and took the proffered arm. Together they mounted the high stairway and paused before each painting, Elrond offering a brief version of the tale told in each. Aragorn followed, seeing the places of his youth in a different light.

"And this place is called..." Miranda's ears rang with the odd Elven names and began tuning out the regal Elf's lecture. She stared at the painting before them: a forest scene, with high, dismal-looking mountains in the distance. Something in the upper corner caught her attention and she moved in toward the painting. It was a ring of stones, each one taller than the tallest Man and as broad as his arm-span. They stood precariously upon a cliff's edge, yet seemed in no danger of falling. As she stared at them, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she began to feel faint.

"The stones!" Her voice was breathless and as she moved to touch them, a loud ringing started in her ears and the painting began to blur. Screams and whispers and the sound of rushing wind overcame her and she stumbled into Elrond, who caught her in shock. A brief cry issued from her lips as he gently knelt with her to the ground.

"The stones!" This time her voice was clearer and she pushed at Elrond, trying to get back to the painting. "That's where it happened!" 

"Of what do you speak, Lady?" Aragorn and Elrond exchanged looks of confusion and suspicion. Legolas came bursting into the hall as she answered:

"Where I came through! The wedding- and that man- and the screams!" She shuddered and shook her head. "It happened so quickly, I didn't understand! And then there was a valley and rushing wind and it hurt! And I was falling and things kept grabbing me and it hurt and I-" she looked up, "I remember!" As she broke off to take a breath, Lord Elrond held up his free hand.

"You are obviously quite distressed. Please, save your breath for now and we shall talk this through." He helped her to her feet, a frown on his features.

The four returned to the main level, though Miranda's eyes shifted back to the painting often, as though assuring herself it was there. Her eyes were wild and she seemed unable to sit still. Her foot tapped incessantly and her head bobbed back and forth. Though this behavior was strange and remarkable to the Man and Elves, they could not see into her mind. The inside of Miranda's head whirled as forgotten information and memories tumbled through it, as though someone stood above her with a bucket and was dumping them atop her. 

"Lady? Can you hear me?" Lord Elrond's voice seemed tinny and far away. She felt suffocated and jumpy, all muscles tensed as though expecting a blow. 

"Lady? Miranda?" His face swam before her own and mixed with images of rooms, automobiles, faces, bottles, paintings, computer screens. The voices were receding and forth-coming without rhythm. The lights were too bright, they were blinding! She needed space, she needed to get out, she needed-

"Shhhhh," A soft voice was saying near her ear. Arms enveloped her and though she struggled briefly, they held firm. He was speaking a language unknown to her, but the words were unimportant. It was the soothing tone and rhythmic syllables that began to soak into her too-saturated mind. As though a wall were erected in her head, the images and sounds began to fade, leading only a single thought:

"I remember." Legolas down at her, a frown marring his brow.

"Can you tell us?" he said, though made no move to release her. She seemed unaware of where she was, but felt safe and secure. She moved her head back so she could look at him.

"I was at a wedding and-" she stumbled over the memory of the rude man and decided to exclude it. "There were stones, large ones, in a sort of circle. I was crying and I didn't notice. Then I guess I touched one and- and..." She shook her head, thinking of the screams and felt trapped again. She pushed away from Legolas and took a deep breath.

"There was screaming and I felt as though the wind was ripping me apart and then it was over. I opened my eyes and I saw trees. Then I-" she bit her lip, remembering. "I think I fell, I remember it felt like things were tearing at my clothing and skin. And then.....everything went black. Then you appeared." She looked up at Aragorn, whose face was impassive.

"You were at a wedding? Held at the foot of the mountain? A wedding which you left and then proceeded up this mountain?" Aragorn's voice was no longer friendly, but cold and filled with disbelief.

"No!" Miranda shook her head in frustration. "There was no mountain! Only a little hill!"

"But you can see from the painting, my lady, and remember from your fall, that the stone circle is indeed atop a low mountain." Lord Elrond's face was drawn and he looked even more stern than usual.

"But I didn't- I'm not-" She sighed. "I'm not from this world. I think I....I think somehow I came through the stones. From my world.....to this one." She bit her lip and looked at the circle of faces, knowing her story to sound ridiculous and unbelievable. Aragorn and Elrond stood expressionless, arms folded in an identical fashion across their chests. Legolas stood still, frowning. Did he, at least, believe her? Just then, a loud laugh and the patter of feet filled the hall as the six Hobbits and Gimli entered. Rosie's mouth hung open as she gaped at the Elvish elegance, while Merry and Pippin engaged in an argument of sorts. Bilbo leaned heavily on Sam and Frodo, but chattered away contentedly. They eyed the other group curiously, wondering why the three males were crowded around a distressed-looking Miranda.

"What's goin on?" Pippin asked, clutching something to his chest. Aragorn and Elrond exchanged looks and Elrond nodded slightly.

"It seems Miranda has regained her memory. Or so she claims," said Aragorn.

"'Or so she claims?'" said Sam, indignantly. "And have we suddenly reason to doubt her word?" The rest looked from Aragorn to Elrond and finally to Miranda.

"Miss?" said Sam, uncertainly. Miranda's frustration was slowly turning to anger.

"My Lord, I fully realize this sounds absurd, but I swear upon my life what I say is truth. I was born in a land called England. No such place as Rivendell exists in my world. We have no Elves or Hobbits or Dwarfs. Somehow, when I touched the stone it- it transported me here. I- I don't understand it myself!"

Legolas looked doubtful, but he knelt beside her and drew her hand into his own.

"Lady, I have no wish to label your story false, but how could such a thing be true? Is it not possible that you merely dreamed this in a fever dream?"

**Bloody hell. I thought YOU of all people would support me,** she thought.

"I know reality from dream, Legolas. Remember the clothing you found me in? Had you ever seen such garments?" She asked, desperation evident in her voice. 

"Oi!" Pippin's voice broke the group surrounding Miranda. "Remember this strange lot?" he said, dumping her leather bag on the table. Everyone eyed it curiously as Miranda's hand reached slowly out for it. Her shoulder bag! Eagerly, she up-ended it on the wooden table.

"Look!" she said, holding up her Discman. "Have you such things in Middle-Earth?" She pushed the player into Legolas's hands and grabbed her wallet with relief. Flipping it open to the photos in the back, she shoved them at Aragorn and Elrond.

"Have you seen photos before? Look at the `plastic`," she said. "It doesn't even exist here!" She ripped her VISA out and waved it under Elrond's nose. He took it gingerly, amazement on his face as he examined it, and the photos. Aragorn flipped slowly through the photos, as Legolas watched over his arm: Miranda and Maggie in her flat on move-in day; Miranda and Rachel in Saalbach on skis, grinning wildly; Miranda and Dave on their wedding day, both looking impossibly happy. 

An odd sound made everyone look at Pippin, whose face had paled. In his hand he held Miranda's mobile, though he had no clue what purpose it served. Everyone reacted at once. Legolas's hand went to the knife strapped at his thigh.

"Some strange bird?" said Aragorn, moving toward Pippin.

"My mobile!" said Miranda, grabbing at it. Eyes wide with excitement, she tried to click it on when it made the sound again. Could it still be working? She hit 'call', but nothing happened.

`The battery,` she whispered sadly. The battery had finally run out and the phone beeped to tell her that. Sighing, she placed it back on the table, where Pippin again swiped it when no one was looking. Remaining in the bag were five tampons (THANK GOD!!), her diaphragm, a bottle of aspirin, a can of mace (this she carefully left in the bag) and the clothing she had taken to the wedding to change into. 

"Oh, and this!" This was a novel, her favorite: The Once and Future King. This she silently handed to Elrond. His impassive face remained still as he flipped through the book, noting the strange writing and perfect lettering.

"Now do you believe me?" she asked. 

"I-I do not know what to think," Elrond stared at her intently.

"Lady, when we first found you, you mentioned the Shire," Aragorn said. His eyes were narrowed. "If you are not from Middle-Earth, how could you have known about the Shire?" 

Miranda looked dumbfounded. 

**What on earth could I have said about the Shire? I didn't even-** Suddenly the memory dawned and she giggled. If it was slightly hysterical, perhaps given the circumstances, that could be forgiven.

"I didn't say 'Shire' I said the name of my home town! I just realized how similar they sound. `Hertfordshire` is a tiny village in England, where I was born." Sam and Frodo smiled at each other in relief. They hadn't wanted to believe that Miranda was some spy. Even Legolas looked relieved and found this a plausible explanation. 

"All of these...gadgets would make it seem that you do speak truth, yet how could such a thing be? Were it possible to travel between worlds, why have we not heard of such things before?" Elrond's eyebrows were so tightly drawn together, it looked painful. Miranda shrugged helplessly when a throat cleared behind her.

"Master Elrond, it is not entirely unheard of," said Gimli, haltingly. Elrond turned in surprise.

"Gimli, son of Gloin, explain your meaning!" 

"When I was but a young lad, beardless even, my great uncle told a story of a human maiden who appeared suddenly at the gate to his mines one day. She was dirty and disoriented and spoke no languages they knew. Eventually they worked it out that she had come from the stones.

I have heard similar stories, though I always believed them legend. It is always human women who appear suddenly in Middle-earth from some unknown place. Could it be that these stories are true?" Gimli looked at Miranda in wonder.

"And what happened to these maidens?" asked Aragorn. Gimli sniffed.

"Some were able to return by the way they came. But legend says that they have only one chance each year to return, or so claimed my father's brother. Others could not make it through at the right time and were doomed to remain." Miranda looked at Gimli, mouth agape.

"One chance to return? When? What chance?"

"The gateway is only open on the date they first arrived."

"But-I don't remember what day it was!"

"The midday of June, Lady. I remember," said Frodo softly.

"And what is today?" Miranda asked, in a panic.

"The first of June."

The room became silent as all thought of what the future would bring.

  
  


**************

Sam sat with Frodo on a high bench near their rooms. As they watched, Pippin pushed Rose in a swing and Merry lay on the grass at their feet, smoking his pipe. Though the scene appeared idyllic, Sam's heart was heavy.

"She is leaving on the morrow then?" said Sam, watching the sky.

"Aye, Legolas has agreed to accompany her to the stone circle. He can travel the swiftest and will get her there in time." Frodo sipped at a goblet, though its contents seemed tasteless to him.

"I cannot believe she will soon leave us. It seems as though she's always been there, if you take my meaning."

"Bag End will be much too quiet, I am afraid," said Frodo. He sighed.

"But she remembers her life now, Sam. She must return to her own people." Sam nodded, unhappily.

  
  
  
  


*********

  
  


Miranda sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the photo on her lap. She traced her finger over her own smiling face.

**Were we really ever that happy?** she thought, wistfully. A soft tap at the door brought her out of her reverie.

"Yes?" The door opened and Legolas entered, his step silent and lithe. Miranda's heart beat faster and she unconsciously smoothed her hair and smiled at him.

"Would you....erm....would you like to sit?" Though she thought he would take the chair across from her, instead he sat next to her on the bed. 

**Not even a dent.** Her attention was caught by random details.. The bed did not dip at all.

"Master Elrond and Aragorn have spoken. It was agreed that I might accompany you to the circle. The way is not long, but there are still treacherous beings about. Also, you do not know the way. I-We felt you would feel less unease when with someone you know, and I am the swiftest rider among us. We shall leave at dusk tonight, if it please you. That will allow us enough time to reach the stones and I will return in time for the wedding." He looked down at her. Miranda nodded, still gazing at the picture in front of her. 

"May I?"

She nodded again and he took the photo, examining it in detail.

"Who is this?" He pointed at the man, wondering why this stranger whom he'd never seen provoked feelings of jealousy within him. Their pose, with the man's arms around Miranda indicated an intimacy Legolas did not like.

"That's David. He's- was my husband." Had he been human, Legolas would have started with shock, but being Elvish, he merely blinked. Strong dislike boiled within him and he stared at the man's face, a face full of deceit and low-breeding, Legolas thought.

"Was? He is dead, then?" 

"N-" Miranda started to say no, then realized how difficult it might prove to explain what divorce was. And in a way, Dave, the man she thought she knew, the man she fell in love with, was dead.

"Yes," she said. "Almost two years ago." He nodded and felt some of the irrational hatred dissipate. There was another photo underneath. This one featured Miranda and a dark-haired woman smiling. He noticed how happy Miranda looked. Her head was thrown back and she appeared to be laughing. Her cheeks were red, and the snow surrounding them was indicative of cold.

"What are those strange contraptions on your feet?" Legolas asked. The melancholic look faded from her face and she grinned.

"Skis. Don't you have skiing here?" He shook his head.

"Ah. Well, they are long pieces of wood that are very smooth and your feet are bound to them with this boot-thing. Then you sort of slide down a mountain on snow. It's fun, what with the wind and the speed. Exhilarating, I suppose you might say."

"You look very happy in these paintings. I am glad. I want you to be happy." Legolas's tone was odd and Miranda looked up sharply. She was about to question him when a knock sounded at the door and it swung open.

"Ah. So that's where you have been hiding. Come, you two, it is time to eat!" Gimli patted his round stomach in obvious anticipation. Glad of the distraction, Miranda stood and heard Merry and Pippin right outside the door.

"Well, I'll see you later, then." Gimli watched her go, then turned to Legolas, who remained sitting on the bed, staring at the 'paintings.' His stern brown-eyes softened as he looked at his friend. Though the Elf's face remained stolid, Gimli recognized his listless posture and was saddened. 

"Legolas," he said gently, "I will gladly come along if you wish." Legolas need no reference, for he knew his friend well.

"No, Gimli. I think it best if I go alone. And though your offer is quite selfless (truly an astonishing thing for a Dwarf), I do not think you would enjoy several weeks on horseback without pause nor respite." Legolas had recovered from his strange feelings and was up to teasing his friend.

"Hmph. In that you are right, Elf. But as for selfless offers, no one has been more selfless than I during our travels. Constantly having to find pools for you to bathe in and that singing! O how my axe called for Elf blood!" They smiled at one another and went down to eat.

  
  


************

  
  


As the sun sank in the sky, Legolas stood near the entrance of Imladris with two steeds, waiting for Miranda to finish her farewells. He was reminded painfully of the last time he had stood in this place and heard farewells. He hoped no tragedies would fall on this journey as had plagued the previous. Miranda appeared before him then, and he helped her onto her horse, then mounted Arod. Without looking back, she guided the animal though the gates and out of sight. He followed, curious at the slump of her shoulders and the way in which she had not looked back. Her hood was drawn up though, and he could not see her face. As they climbed the hill outside of the city, he moved in front and picked up the pace. They would go only a few miles tonight, but he wanted to cover as much ground as possible

Miranda was miserable. Her heart felt heavy and she sat numbly, trying not to think of her last day with the Hobbits. There would be time to mourn later. For now, she would be numb and just drift. She clutched her cloak round tighter and gripped the reins in white-knuckled fists. Illogically, 'Here We Go, Into the Wild Blue Yonder' was playing over and over again in her head and it clashed horridly with her sorrow. She concentrated on the hoof beats and slowly, everything else faded out.

  
  


**********

Sam clutched Rosie tighter to him and she snuggled her head deeper into his shoulder. His eyes were wide open and sleep would not come. She had been gone for little over 36 hours, but, it seemed like weeks already. Merry had sat glumly and stared at the river for a day, and Pippin had swung slowly, watching the Elves. It was Frodo, though, who had come to see Sam, who understood how much he would miss Miranda. He thought of her farewell, but something was nagging at the corner of his mind. The sun would be up soon. Another day would dawn and there would be good food, relaxation and songs. But something wasn't right. As he thought of Miranda and Legolas riding out through the gates, he shifted his foot. Maggie had fallen asleep on it and it had-

Sam sat bolt upright in bed, causing Rose to mutter angrily. He stared down at the end of the bed.

**Maggie! She forgot Maggie!** The dog had been caught eating the rabbit intended for dinner and been locked in Sam's room, as Miranda's had no door. In the excitement over her memory coming back, no one had thought of the dog. Sam had fed her without noticing, it had been so commonplace over the past year.

Now he crept out of bed and over to the narrow cot in the corner where Frodo snored lightly.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam whispered, shaking his master. "Mr. Frodo!" he said, a little louder.

"What, Sam? What is it?" Frodo's peered at him beerily. A pale gold shaft of sunlight appeared over the mountain just then and Frodo caught sight of Sam's face.

"Sam, why're you crying?" he said, cradling Sam's cheeks.

"Maggie! We forgot all about Maggie!" Sam pointed to where Maggie was sprawled, sound asleep. "Oh, Mr. Frodo, you know how she loves that dog! She can't go back without her! Who will take care of her?" Frodo wasn't sure if Sam meant Miranda or Maggie, but one thing was certain. He was not going to be getting any more sleep today.

By noon, it was decided. Sam, Frodo, Merry and Pippin would take Maggie to the stone circle and hopefully, they would come in time. Rose had not been pleased, but one look into her beloved's eyes and she could not say no. Sam's soft-heartedness was one of the main reasons she loved him so, and she could not deny him this. She made sure the other Hobbits went along, though, to safeguard him and had a short chat with Meriadoc before they left. Though he was a Brandybuck and therefore a bit strange, he was good and noble and had saved the Shire. She trusted him and informed him in no uncertain terms what would happen to the chance of his having children, should he not bring Sam back safe and alive and in one piece.

By dusk, the four were on ponies and out the gate. Maggie trotted along side, happily unaware of the events that were about to unfold.


	14. Chapter 14: The Long Road Home

Hey everybody!! First, major kudos to Jazz for the chapter title clue. (Remembrance of Things Past) and to Elise.....dammit. Don't you know we Americans are completely incompetent when it comes to geography? :) I checked the map in my world atlas and you are, indeed, correct. The somewhat tiny letters are counties. It's the REALLY tiny letters that are villages/towns/hamlets. My apologies. But we'll just have to use our imaginations and pretend it's a city, gel? Or that she meant county. Please don't think less of me!!

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Chapter 14

  
  


The sun had set and risen once since they had begun their journey. Miranda did not speak, but merely nodded or shook her head. Legolas thought it best to allow her time to mourn. To say good-bye to friends was something he had not yet done, something about which he did not understand. He did, however, recognize her need to be left alone, and so he quietly lit a fire, hunted and watched over her as she slept. By the time the sun was again waning the next day, he was uncomfortable with silence. In a very short time she would be leaving this place for good and this made him unhappy. He looked over to her and saw her shoulders still slumped and her head bowed. He reined in.

"We shall stop for the night here." He dismounted and began removing items from his saddle bags. He had learned that Miranda was quite an accomplished horsewoman and needed no help with her mount. He fetched water and crouched near the fire, one hand always near his bow. Miranda declined food, and crawled into the sleep sack she'd laid out, but her eyes remained open, staring at the quarter moon high above. 

"Legolas?" He turned to her. "Why don't you have a sleep sack?" She had been too exhausted the previous night to notice, but now she saw that he merely sat, or rather crouched, near the fire.

"I must keep watch. Though the Dark Lord was defeated, there are still Orcs and goblins about, and lesser dangers such as wolves and wild animals."

"But you didn't sleep last night, either." She struggled to sit up in her sack, intending to offer to watch, but he shook his head, face grave.

"We can go many days of hard travel without rest. And we do not sleep, not as your kind does. Sometimes when we rest, we may walk within our hidden thoughts." He stopped suddenly, surprised at how easily he explained Elven habits. His normal response to human questions would be haughty and refutive, but he found himself wanting to tell her.

"You don't sleep? Ever?" He was perplexed by her tone of pity and incredulity.

"I presume as a child, I slept, but upon reaching adulthood....no. You say that as though it were a terrible thing, Lady. Would you not find it pleasant not to waste so much of your very short life in slumber?" His tone was cooler than it had been.

"Waste? You call sleep waste? I love sleeping. There are few things better than waking slowly on a Sunday morning and snoozing in and out of sleep, or after a long, horrible day to fall into bed and just....let go."

"Let go?" He looked more curious than offended now.

"That's what it feels like, sometimes. You just sort of let go and drift. Your body is so relaxed and you feel warm and safe." He felt drawn in by her voice, which had become lower and even-toned. She had a dreamy look upon her face and her eyes were closed. "You aren't that old anyway. Don't you remember?" Lazily, she opened her eyes and looked at him. His face was blank.

"Not that old?" he said.

"Well, I would guess. How old are you? Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?" She guessed slightly higher than she believed. She hoped he was that old. But then again, she would make exceptions for youth. He hadn't answered and she wondered if she had somehow offended him. He looked slightly 'not there,' and then she realized why. He was figuring out his age.

"I believe I am about twenty-one yén." Miranda's eyes widened, she hadn't thought him that young.

"Yén?" she said.

"That would translate to roughly 3,000 of your human years." Dead silence greeted this and then she laughed.

"Right, then. I'm sorry. I won't tease you about your age. Now seriously, how old are you?" He was not smiling.

"I am serious, Miranda. I had not realized you were unfamiliar with the life spans of Elves." He wasn't joking, she realized. 

**But how can that be?**

"But how can that be?" He raised an eyebrow.

"We are immortal on this earth."

  
  


********

**Immortal? . . . Huh.** This thought had been circulating through Miranda's mind for the past few hours. She couldn't quite move on. After dropping that bombshell, Legolas had grown quiet and Miranda had drifted off, stunned. That morning, he had set a hard pace, and she had little breath, had she even wanted to talk.

**Immortal. . . Huh. What must that be like? How-** Her brain refused to wrap itself around the concept. As the sun reached overhead and started its journey down the other side, Miranda finally came out of her daze. She realized they were riding at a much slower pace and she looked over to find Legolas watching her with an odd look on his face.

**That's not amusement... Is it?**

"I thought perhaps you might be hungry," he said, reaching into a sack and pulling out dried meat and some sort of fruit that resembled carrots. Then came the biscuits. The same thing they had eaten yesterday. And the day before.

"Mm-mmm. Jerky," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Jer-kee?" 

"Jerky. Cowboys eat it. Foul stuff." He looked confused, then affronted, and then a sly smile spread across his face.

"Of course, if you are not hungry, I can put it awa-"

"No!" She glared and held out her hand. "I love jerky. And ...a biscuit." Trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile, he silently handed her the food and took a small bite of biscuit. They chewed in silence for a while. Eventually he cocked his head to the side and looked at her.

"You ride very well for a woman," he said. She debated taking offense, then decided her rear hurt too much to expend the effort.

"Oh. Erm, thanks. I lived with my grandparents for a bit. They raised Thoroughbreds. Taught me to ride before I could walk." She smiled nostalgically, and he was suddenly plagued with a desire to know everything about her. He was disturbed by these feelings, having usually little interest in humans' lives.

"Would you-" He paused. "Would you tell me of your life?" She stared at him in surprise. After finally accepting that she had, indeed, come from another place, everyone had seemingly forgotten about it. They had asked no questions, other than devising a plan to get her back.

"Errrm... ." She hadn't the slightest clue where to begin. 

"Do you live in holes, like the Halflings?" He prodded her along. She gave a shout of startled laughter.

"No! No, we live in houses or flats similar to Master Elrond's home. But smaller. More.....closed. Not so many windows and all. Unless you live in a flat. Then the buildings are sometimes very tall. Two or three times taller than that tree there." She pointed, and he nodded thoughtfully.

"Do you have a family?" He voice sounded more animated than it's usual earnest, but somber tone.

"What is this, 'Twenty Questions?'" she said. He blinked and said,

"I did not mean to offend, Lady, if I-"

"No, no, I didn't mean that. I was . . jesting. Keep forgetting that whole elves and no sense of humor thing. No, I don't mind answering questions. . . if you do the same." He looked at her quizzically.

"I answer a question, you answer a question." He thought about it, (rather longer than necessary, she thought) and finally nodded.

"Right. Uh, family. A father, a sister and a brother. My mother was killed in a automobile accident when I was a baby. I went to live with her parents for almost ten years before my father decided he missed me and wanted me with him. More like he needed an extra secretary." Her tone had become very bitter and she stared into the fire. He didn't understand some of her words, but the tone indicated an unhappiness which saddened him. She looked up suddenly, shaking her head as though to dislodge the thoughts.

"Sorry," she said, brightly. "MY turn. What is your home like?" His face lit up and he spoke lovingly of Mirkwood. She noticed, however, that though he spoke at length of trees, grasses and rivers, he mentioned no names.

"What about your family?" His expression did not change, but she sensed a slight mood shift.

"I believe it is my turn to ask. What is an auto-mo-mo-mo-"

"Automobile? A sort of horseless cart that is very heavy and goes very fast. Now. Your family?" He again hedged, but eventually have a brief explanation of a father, King Thranduil, a mother and several siblings.

"King? Your father is a king?" At his nod, she smiled to herself.

**Move over, Prince William!**

"So you're a prince?" He shrugged slightly.

"Yes, I suppose, by your definition. Our ways are somewhat different."

"Well, if your father dies, do you get to be king?" Her tone was joking, but she was confused why an heir-apparent was so alone. Though she had only been in his presence for about four weeks, she had seen him only with Gimli or Aragorn. Shouldn't he have body guards or whatever their equivalent here are?

"My father won't die," he said shortly. "Were he to be killed in battle, there are a number of sons who would inherit, more...suited to the throne." Miranda blinked at the coldness in his voice.

**Lots of issues there.**

"You don't like your father very much, do you?" He looked at her in surprise, then smiled strangely.

"You are indeed an odd woman. Do you always say whatever comes to mind?" She shrugged, then nodded sheepishly.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No. Do not apologize. You are, in fact, rather perceptive. I do not...understand my father. Nor, I fear, does he understand me. He is happy in his world, one he created. Nothing is born, nothing dies. Everything is preserved, perfectly, forever. Frozen. Unchanging." Now it was he who stared into the fire. "I would welcome change, Miranda. Since the destruction of the Rings of Power, I have felt restless. . . as though I had been asleep a very long time and am now awake. I am changed, somehow, and can no longer return to my former life. Since the Fellowship, I have no purpose." He stopped abruptly. Miranda was stunned. She had never seen him talk at length, unless he recited poetry or story.

"You want excitement and adventure. You want to live and experience life, not just let it happen to you." He looked at her sharply, then nodded, a faint look of wonder on his face.

"Do you read my thoughts, then, that you know so much of me?" She smiled.

"No, nothing quite so dramatic. I just- I feel the same way. I feel as though I'm floating in time, always waiting for something. I just don't know what. For the past year, I had no past and no future, because I didn't know who I was. Now I know, and it still offers no comfort." She looked down, suddenly embarrassed by how much she revealed. He was silent a long time.

"Curious that I could have so much in common with a human woman."

"Hmph. More strange that I would have so much in common with a haughty, pompous Elf." He started to frown, then saw her teasing smile as she wriggled down into her sleep sack. He could not help smiling, but said sternly,

"Sleep now, Miranda. We have many miles yet to go." She smiled dreamily and whispered,

"And miles to go before I sleep."*

  
  


The next ten days were much like the previous day. They rode hard and long, stopping only briefly to relieve themselves, or refill water skins, until long after the sun had set. By day, Legolas was quiet and alert, ever watchful for danger. By night, he lost none of the alertness, but become almost sociable. In the short time before she slept, he listened to her tales of automobiles and planes, movies and photos. He was enraptured by her story of space and of man's walk on the moon. He was persuaded to speak of his own home, of the history of his people, of the great war. Miranda told him of saying good-bye to the Hobbits, of the way Sam wouldn't look at her, how she felt she had betrayed him somehow. Legolas offered no advice, no comfort, but just listened and somehow she felt he understood.

The morning of the fifteenth was hot and bright. At the base of the mountain, they had but a few miles to go. Legolas assured her they would arrive by noon.

The climb up was not particularly steep, but nerves and muddled thought kept Miranda silent. She began to fear that it wouldn't work, that she wouldn't be able to go home. She thought of the fact she'd been gone for a year and how she could she explain that? She thought of hot showers and normal clothing and music. She thought of her friends and her flat and Maggie. 

`Oh Christ.`

  
  


************

  
  


Turning back to check on Miranda, Legolas heard her say something, but she did not speak in the Common Tongue. He looked down to see her paused, one dirty hand against her face, leaning against a boulder.

"Miranda?" he said, alarmed. Jumping lightly down to her, he tugged gently on her hand, afraid something had hurt her. Underneath, tears coursed down her cheeks.

"Miranda, what is it?"

"Ma-Maggie!" She choked on her tears. "I forgot Maggie!!" He looked at her, stricken. It was too late. He helped her sit on the rock and knelt by her side as she sobbed. Consternation bit into him. How had he forgotten? The dog had been banished to a room, he remembered, and he had not seen it before they left.

"Miranda," he said gently. "Though it will grieve you to leave her, remember that she will be well taken care of." She still covered her face with her hands, and he reached out tentatively, touching her knee. She looked at him.

"Sam loves the dog. I have seen that myself. He will care for her well." She nodded miserably, but didn't stop crying.

"She was my friend. I adopted her from a shelter, no one else wanted her- she was too big. They would have put her down, but... She always knew when I was sad or depressed. She'd come and put her head in my lap. She loved me. And I forgot her. I forgot her, Legolas." Legolas was taken aback, and did not know what to do. He had never seen humans love an animal with such passion. Cautiously, he reached out, grasping her shoulder as he would a warrior. It was all the comfort he knew how to give. He was startled when she leaned into him, pressing her face against his neck. Of their own volition, his arms closed around her and he knelt, murmuring Elvish words into her hair. 

Clutching him, Miranda let out the grief and guilt she felt. At long last, her tears subsided and she sniffed wetly. She pulled back, mortified, and realized there was a wet patch on his shoulder where she'd cried. But when she saw him watching her, she lost herself. 

**Such beautiful eyes.** After a long moment, she looked away and noticed that the sun was over head. Legolas too, looked up at the sun and stood, drawing her to her feet.

They climbed up the rest of the hill in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. As they broke through the line of trees, Legolas stopped abruptly. Miranda, whose thoughts were jumping rapidly from Maggie to his eyes and back, stumbled into him.

"Wha-?" she said, peering around him. The area in front of them was gone. Where there once had been a wide cliff, clear of everything but a circle of standing stones was air. The cliff had been broken off, the stones tumbled down hundreds of feet into the forest below.

"It's gone!" She felt dizzy for a moment. The stone circle was destroyed. Dumbly, she stared into empty space. As Miranda stared, paralyzed with shock, Legolas veered to the right, snatching something from a lone rock.

At first, Miranda thought is was a giant black spider and she reared back in fright, until she realized it was a head. Covered in greasy black hair, with greenish skin and white eyes, it gaped at her. She felt sick for a moment at the smell.

"What is that?" Legolas looked around grimly, noting the broken tree limbs and uprooted trunks. As he looked more closely, he saw several bodies, lying in various stages of decay.

"Orcs."

*******

  
  


In the furthest eastern and southern part of Middle Earth, the mountain shook briefly, then subsided. At its base, villagers from miles around left offerings and sacrifices. They prayed for their fields to begin producing and for rain. It had been nearly 6 months since they had received rain. People were going hungry.

To the north, in Gondor, the Steward looked out his window, unease resting heavily upon him. He had sent word to the King three times, the last nearly 3 months ago, yet he still had no answer. The city was growing restless; he had heard reports of strangers stirring up trouble. There was little food, but no one knew why. The fields would not produce, their crop was shriveled and blackened. No rain fell and the sun was merciless. Talk of rogue bands of Orcs traveling south had spread.

The people wanted their long-awaited king to return with his queen. Some said, though, that he cared not for the people of Gondor, and would let the Elves take over. Short were these people's memory and they forgot Aragorn's fight to save Middle-Earth. They saw only that their children went hungry. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


*Miranda is quoting Robert Frost's u Stopping By the Woods u

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15: Then How Shall I Presume?

Chapter the Next  
  


Three days out of Rivendell, Frodo watched Sam as he hunched over the pony's shaggy neck. Sam had been unusually quiet. Merry and Pippin had tried a light banter, but had given up when they found the other two silent. So often it had been Frodo who had been hurt, Frodo whose heart was heavy. During those times Sam had comforted him. It was always Sam. And now it was Sam who hurt, but Frodo did not know the words that would comfort him. He felt clumsy and inept the night Miranda had left. Sam had refused to join in the farewell, had chosen to remain in the great hall watching from a window. Rose had sat by his side, holding his hand, worry creasing her pretty face. Frodo had sat on the other side, watching his friend rather than the leave-taking.

**Dear Sam,** he had thought. **Sweet, wonderful Sam who gives of himself so freely, yet asks for nothing in return.** Frodo, more than anyone, had understood the odd friendship that developed between Miranda and Sam. Sam needed to be needed. For Frodo he fulfilled his required role. He was the faithful servant and loyal companion, because he loved Frodo and because it was his duty. The two became intermingled in his heart. The one meant the other. But Frodo's needs were changing. Though Frodo needed Sam's love and friendship, he no longer needed looking after, not in the basic, earthly sense Sam understood. 

Then there was Rose. Strong, pragmatic, wise Rose. Frodo could not tell who took care of whom in that relationship, but he knew it was a bond of love. But again, though she needed his love, Rose was resourceful. Alone, she could face the world. This new person, this odd, unplaceable human who fit in nowhere was different. Like a baby chick, she had been helpless. Though she faced them bravely, she was weak and exposed; raw even. Frodo could see it in the way she flinched at new sounds, the way her shoulders slumped in confusion and frustration. Sam had taken her under his wing, happy to have someone to care for. He had cared for Frodo out of duty and love had sprung from it. He cared for Miranda out of compassion and friendship grew of it.

"Sam," Frodo said gently. "We are stopping here for the night. Will you help Pippin fix dinner?" Sam nodded, his deceptively thick, clumsy looking hands working the saddle knots deftly. Their meal was hearty, worthy of a hard journey and they slept soon after.

A sharp crunch woke Sam and he jerked up in his sleep sack, scanning the clearing in which they slept. Bright yellow eyes met his own. Steathily, a black wolf crept down from a rock, its eyes never leaving Sam's. It paused for a moment on the ground, eyeing him, then was gone. Sam blinked, but the wolf had disappeared. Had he dreamed it? He listened for several moments, but his eyelids were scratchy and heavy, and soon slipped shut. When the sun dawned, bright and warm, he dismissed the whole incidence as a dream.  
  


**********

"Frodo!" Pippin pointed excitedly to a point over Frodo's left shoulder. "Isna that the mountain there?" Four pairs of eyes scanned the horizon. Sam brightened, seeing a low peak breaking through the tree tops.

"That's it," he said, excitedly. "We'll be there by this time tomorrow." Merry sighed theatrically.

"And none too soon! I never want to see another pony as long as I live after this!"

"And here I thought after coming home we'd be done with the adventuring!" Sam returned Frodo's smile as the four stopped for a bite. They had ridden hard the past week, stopping only when they began falling from their ponies. Now that the end was in sight, their spirits rose somewhat. By sunset they had reached the foot of the mountain and were dismounting to begin the climb up, when Maggie started barking. Whirling around, Merry and Pippin drew their swords, bodies tense and alert for signs of danger. Sam moved in front to protect Frodo when a voice called from the trees.

"Maggie?"

********

Legolas ascertained that the stones were ruined, then returned to find Miranda tying leaf stems into knots. He sighed inwardly.

"Miranda?" She looked up. "It is not safe to remain here. I think it best if we return to immediately Imladris. Something wrong occurred here." She nodded and glanced again at the Orc head lying near her feet. Although a disgusted grimace crossed her face, she gave it no more notice, and Legolas was surprised at her self-containment. She had broken down at the loss of her pet, yet remained resolute when torn from her home. He studied her, wondering what went on in her head, then gave another silent sigh.

"We must go." He grasped her upper arm and gently, but firmly, and placed her before him, propelling her down the mountain. By nightfall they had reached the base. Miranda had been silent the entire descent, and Legolas was beginning to worry. She sat cross-legged by a boulder, staring at the ground before her. She showed no emotion, however. As he opened his mouth to call to her, a soft whuffling sound caught his attention. It was soft enough that Miranda did not hear, but seemed loud to his own ears. In an instant, he had drawn his dagger and placed himself between the noise and Miranda. Crouching low, he crept to the edge of the clearing and peered through the leaves.

Miranda, understanding his sudden movement, remained still, but alert, ready to run. The was a moment of tense silent and then she saw his body relax, and a surprised smile cross his face.

"Maggie?" he called.  
  


***********

Cries of surprise sounded out in the twilight and a hoarse bark echoed in the still air. Maggie turned from the tree she had been snuffling and trotted towards Legolas. As she cleared through the brush, she saw or smelled Miranda, and, ignoring Legolas, raced gleefully for her mistress. Miranda stood still, a look of dumb shock on her face, which changed into a grimace of pain and then laughter and Maggie joyfully ran into her. 

"Who's there?" Four cautious faces looked through the bushes as four silver points pushed into the clearing. Legolas reached down and pulled two Hobbits out of the wood, then reached for the other two.

"Miranda!" Sam ran toward her, panic on his face. "It's nearly the end of the day! You won't make it in time!" He grabbed her hand and began tugging her in the direction of the hilltop. When she didn't move, he looked back in confusion.

"No, Sam," she said, gently.

"You've decided to say?" His face brightened joyfully and he grasped her hand more tightly. She gave no answer and stared at her feet. "Miranda?" Sam looked at Legolas for answers. Legolas's gaze moved up involuntarily toward the cliff.

"It is gone," he said, simply. The Hobbits looked bewildered.

"What d'ye mean 'tis gone?" asked Pippin suspiciously. Miranda shrugged slightly.

"He means the stone were some how knocked down. There was a battle of sorts and....boom. All gone." Her joking words were belied by her flat tone.

"Gone? I-I don't understand. How could they be gone?" Sam looked from Miranda to Legolas and back. Miranda continued to stare at her boots, so Legolas told the Hobbits what they had found. Four pairs of eyes widened in horror as they realized the implication then turned together to Miranda. Her mouth curled up in a wry half-smile.

"Guess I'm going to be sticking around for..." Her smile faded. "Forever."  
  


************

Though Legolas would have preferred to get as far away from the cliff as possible, the Hobbits needed a rest from their journey, and Miranda looked in no shape to sit a horse. While Sam cooked a small dinner, Legolas slipped silently up the mountain to investigate the scene in more detail.

"Do you think she's alright?" whispered Sam. Frodo followed his gaze to Miranda, who sat pushing her food round her plate. Frodo's shoulders sagged.

"I guess not, Sam. She's lost her home. Again." Silently, the two finished their meal. Each thought of a time when he was certain he'd have no home to which he would return. Merry and Pippin were uncharacteristically quiet, forgoing their usual attempts to cheer up any sadness.

As the moon rose ever higher, the Hobbits climbed into their sleep sacks, though all eyes remained open.

Shortly before sunrise, Legolas returned from his search of the area. He found bodies, mostly Orc, but some human. No explanation could be drawn from the corpses, however. Why had humans been in these mountains? Had they chased the Orcs here?

He returned to find Miranda sitting on a tree stump, staring into space. He paused at the edge of the clearing, watching her. Her face was drawn, her hands clenched together. His heart went to her and he found himself wishing he could help her. He knelt before her, as he had previously, and lightly touched her hand. Part of him, however, felt strangely happy. He did not want her to leave; not now, when he was only beginning to understand her. The fact that he wanted to understand her made him nervous, though his expression remained passive.

"Legolas?" He blinked. "Are you well?" He realized he had been staring at her as he mused and was again surprised that a human had caught him off his guard.

"Forgive me," he said and frowned. "I think it only curious that you became so upset at the loss of Maggie, yet show no feeling at the destruction of your passage home." She was silent for a moment and then smiled, but sadly.

"I guess I'm trapped here now. I just lost my friends and family and my life in an instant. I'm confused and frightened and--" She looked at him. "But there's nothing I can do about it, is there? So what's the point of tears?" Her voice cracked, but her eyes remained dry. Though he was still, she thought she saw compassion in his eyes. They were warmer than they had been. His thumb brushed the back of her hand. In spite of her pain, her heart sped up.

"You are very brave," he said, touching her jaw. Without realizing it, she leaned into his hand, which moved to cradle her cheek.

"No," she said sadly. "I've just lost hope." His throat grew unfamiliarly tight and his grip tightened on her hand. He did not want her to give up. He would not let her give up. Leaning forward, he touched his lips to hers, kissing her very gently.

"There is always hope. Your friend, Sam, taught me that." He stood up, suddenly, pulling her with. "The sun rises. We should leave."  
  


************  
  


Sitting on her horse, Miranda's thoughts were muddled and random.

**I'm stuck here.** Though she logically knew they were true, she still didn't seem quite able to feel it. **My home, my friends, my life is gone. I am completely alone here.** This thought was quickly refuted however, as she looked around her at her five companions.

**Maybe not quite so alone.** Her gaze fell on Legolas's back and she watched the faint movement of muscles under his tunic. His motions were fluid and easy, in perfect harmony with the beast beneath him. Unconsciously, her fingers touched her lips lightly. He had kissed her. The words played again and again in her mind. His lips had been cool and impossibly soft. They had rested against her own for only a moment, but it seemed as though time had stopped and every nerve ending sent a separate message to her brain. Every sense had been completely alive in that moment.

**But what did it mean?** she thought, frustrated suddenly. **Pity? Friendship? Lust? Oooh...I'm voting for lust.** Just as suddenly, her frustration was overtaken by emptiness. Maybe life in London hadn't been a smashing good time, but it was hers. Her life, and she wanted it back. What would she do here? Where would she live? How would she live? She knew she could not return to the Shire. By King's decree, no Men were allowed to set foot in the Shire from now on. Where could she go?

While Miranda tried to organize her thoughts, Legolas's attention was caught by distant movement. Swinging down from his mount, he gracefully leaped onto a rock, climbing higher as the rest watched in surprise.

"Here! What's he doing?" whispered Merry, aghast. The others shrugged and watched as Legolas climbed out on a ledge and stared out into the distance. Then, just as suddenly, he swung down on the nearest tree, landing soundlessly near his horse.

"Riders. Some leagues away yet. I counted only eight. They carried no flags, nor had their shields emblems." He frowned.

"From which direction do they come?" said Frodo.

"Northwest, it seems." Legolas remounted and coaxed the mare forward. "I hope only that they seek no combat."

Nearly an hour later, he had his answer. Again he halted them and climbed high into a tree for a better view. Gnawing on pieces of Lembas, the rest were startled to hear him call out,

"It is Aragorn! And he leads Lord Elrond and his sons and others." 

"Strider!" Sam said. "But what's he doing out here? He ought to be getting ready to be married!" The others had no answer but to remount and ride out to meet their friend.

As they emerged from the wood onto the plain, Aragorn and the Elves were nearly upon them.

"Legolas!" called Aragorn. They dismounted and clasped one another's shoulders. Legolas was shocked to see his friend's normally tan, rugged face pale and aged. 

"Aragorn, my friend! What has happened? Why ride you when you will soon wed?" Aragorn's exhausted answer horrified the others.

"The Lady Arwen. She has disappeared."

  
  
  
  
  
  



	16. Interludes in Rohan

  
  


"Gone?" said Frodo. "I don't understand." They all looked to Elrond, whose elegant face was drawn and tight. 

"My daughter had traveled to Lorien to be with her mother's people, as is custom in our land. When she did not return, Elladan and Elrohir rode toward Lorien to search for her and found her traveling party dead, though they bore no wounds or marks. Arwen was gone." He bowed his head, heavy with grief.

"Not long after they left, a man arrived in Rivendell," Aragorn began. "He was a woodsmen from these parts. He told me of having been out hunting and coming across a Gondorian messenger being attacked by a black wolf. The animal was very large, but when it turned its head, it had blue eyes. The wolf fled at the sight of twenty hunters, but the messenger was mortally wounded. The woodsman tried to help the messenger, but his wounds were too deep. He spoke only three words. 'Gondor. Trouble. King." Legolas frowned at this and the others looked at each other in alarm.

"Do you think they're connected?" Merry asked. Aragorn glanced at Elrond, then answered.

"Short black hairs were found on the clothing of the slain Elves. But how could an animal kill without biting, without blood? How could a single wolf slay twenty Elves?" Aragorn shook his head. "I do not know, but we ride to Minas Tirith to see what sense they might make of this. From there I will send out my search party." His voice was rough, but decisive.

"Then we shall come, too," said Merry. "Many are the times you have come to our aid. Now it is we who will aid you in your search." Pippin, Frodo and Sam added their support. In surprise, Aragorn smiled at their loyalty, then stopped short as he glimpsed Miranda.

"You did not return?" She looked down and then shook her head.

"The stone circle was destroyed," she said.

"Destroyed?" Aragorn looked to Legolas for an explanation.

"We came upon bodies, my lord. Human and Orc. They destroyed the circle, pushed the stones over the cliff."

"Orcs?" said Elrohir. "That cannot be. The Orcs retreated eastward after the defeat of Sauron. There haven't been any sightings in over a year."

"Well then, they got a bunch of men to dress up in hideous Orc-suits and killed them all over the clearing," Miranda said, angrily. Elrohir stiffened and opened his mouth to speak, when Aragorn laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Please. This does not help our cause. I know not what devilry is at work here, but we have no time for arguments." His tired, haggard face softened Miranda. She held her tongue, knowing there was little she could do to help. Aragorn turned to Legolas.

"Legolas, will you ride with me? I do not know what ails the White City, but I may need help from those I trust." Legolas grasped Aragorn's shoulder.

"You know you needn't ask." They looked at one another for a moment, then Aragorn smiled slightly and grasped Legolas's hand briefly with his own.

"What aboot us, then?" Pippin asked, hopefully. Merry stood a bit straighter as Aragorn looked to them.

"I cannot ask-" 

"-us to leave our friend in his time of need? No, of course not! We shall happily accompany you," Merry said, fighting to keep a straight face. Again, a faint smile drifted across Aragorn's face as he turned to Sam and Frodo. Before he could speak, however, Frodo surprised everyone by saying,

"We, too, shall come. You saved our lives many times, my king, and I would return the favor."

"You saved the world, Master Hobbit. I would wager that pays your chit in full," Aragorn said softly. Frodo smiled.

"You have Gollum and Sam to thank for that. I-" Frodo stopped abruptly as Aragorn drew in breath sharply, reaching for his sword. The Elves drew weapons and were on their guard, watching the woods to the west. The sudden silence was broken as a large stone flew from a tree, knocking one of the Rivendell Elves from his horse. Just as suddenly, great, dark creatures fell upon them from the trees above, teeth biting and claws scratching.

"Orcs!" Miranda wasn't sure who yelled, but her heart was in her mouth and she found herself turning and running away blindly, Frodo at her side. From the relative safety of a hiding place, Miranda, Sam and Frodo peered through branches at a skirmish not ten feet before them. A small band of Orcs, twenty at the most, were viciously slashing and snarling, while Aragorn and the rest fought back. The Orcs were beasts, huge to her eyes, and grotesque, but strangely unreal. It felt as though she were watching a film. Her heart slowed and she felt little fear until her eyes fell on Legolas. He fought on the side nearest her, and was about to run the Orc through, when a second came up behind him, grasping Legolas bodily around the abdomen, teeth bared to bite. Without considering her lack of weapon, Miranda grabbed the first heavy branch she saw and stepped out her hiding place.

'What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?` she shouted, clubbing the Orc across the back of its head. It grunted and turned in surprise, growling low, and advanced on her.

`Ah, Christ. Bad move. Really bad move.` Miranda began backing up, tightening her grasp on the branch, though she now realized what little protection it offered. As the Orc leapt toward her, a small brown blur knocked her bodily out of the way.

"Stupid child. Do you seek death?" Grunting, Gimli hauled himself to his feet and glared at Miranda, who shook her head hastily. "Then go hide yourself!" Without watching, he turned in a swift move, burying his axe into the belly of the Orc behind him. Needing no encouragement, Miranda ran. As the fight began to subside, the Orcs defeated, Miranda found herself wishing for a nice, modern weapon.

**Wouldn't be quite so monster-y if I had a Walther, would you? One little pop, and you'd be gone,** she sneered. The sneer faded as she remembered she didn't have a pistol. She had no weapons and wouldn't know what to do with them if she had them. 

Miranda frowned, as she realized with clarity how dependent she was in this world. It was a frightening thought. When it seemed safe to come out, she crept out with Sam and Frodo. The Elves were gathered around one who lay still.

"He will need a day's time for recovery. Is there no place where we might rest the night in safety?" Elrohir looked to Aragorn, who knew these lands well.

"There are only human villages between here and Minas Tirith." Aragorn looked to Elrond who shrugged slightly. "Then I would suggest we make for Helm's Deep. We may rest there in safety tonight, allow the horses and the Hobbits a rest." Pippin glared at Aragorn in indignation at having been compared to a horse, but remained silent at a well-timed elbowing from Merry. 

The ride to the hold was short and silent, as all kept a vigilant watch against another attack. As they reached the Deeping Wall, trumpets called out a warning. The gates were barred as the group approached, and soldiers called down from the parapets. 

"Who are you and what do you seek here?" 

Aragorn stood in his stirrups and threw back his hood, revealing his face. The soldier gasped in surprise, then called out, "It is Lord Aragorn! Open the gates!" 

A few hours later, everyone was gathered in the main hall. It was mostly empty; only a few soldiers remained to guard the keep. As they ate, Aragorn told them more of what they knew of Arwen's disappearance, but it was little. Miranda, sitting between Sam and Legolas, listened as Gimli told of how he came to the clearing just in time to save Miranda from the Orc.

"They left without me." Gimli's rumbling voice was filled with incredulity. "They left whilst I still slumbered!" In spite of the weight of his worries, Aragorn smiled.

"Perhaps you merely could not hear over the cacophony of your snores," Legolas teased.

"Hmph. Continue in this impertinent manner and you shan't hear the reason I have ridden after you- ridden quite bravely and with danger assailing me every step that wretched pony took!" Gimli downed his pint and glared at Legolas, who tried valiantly to hide his smile.

"Please continue, O wise Master Dwarf! I assure you we wait with baited breath." Legolas caught Miranda's glance and winked at her. Gimli guffawed, then paused as the smile faded from his face.

"My news is not fortunate. Less than a day after Lord Elrond and his company left Rivendell, a white horse appeared. A riderless, powerful horse which I have glimpsed only once before."

"Shadowfax." Aragorn did not need Gimli to confirm his thought. "Did he have news of Gandalf, then?" Miranda blinked in surprise.

**Horses can talk?**

Gimli frowned. "He gave me....impressions.... Gandalf, a dark cave, a wall, a black wolf-" A sharp intake of breath from his entire audience caused Gimli to stop short. "What?"

As the Gimli and the others began discussing the meaning of this, Miranda's attention wandered and she caught sight of Sam. His neck was bent at a most uncomfortable-looking angle, eyes shut fast. Pippin leaned against his shoulder, snoring gently, while Frodo gazed out the window, smoking his pipe thoughtfully. 

For a moment, in spite of her fear and intense disappointment, she felt a surge of love. These funny little creatures whose legs could scarcely span the width of a pony had braved the forest (which she now imagined filled with all sorts of frightful things) alone to bring her Maggie. She smiled at them and rubbed Maggie's soft ears.

Legolas leaned back from the table. Though Aragorn and the other Elves picked apart every detail of the known information, he felt it a useless act. They had few leads, other than something was in the south. Their time could be better spent traveling south. To his side, he noticed Miranda nodding off. Signaling his intent to Elrond, he nudged Miranda gently.

"Wha?" Her voice was groggy. He pointed at the Hobbits.

"I think it's time I take you all to your bedchamber." Miranda nodded, but thought,

**I'd rather you just took me to bed.**

Their 'bedchamber' consisted of a drafty room with rough mattresses on the floor. The Hobbits pulled out their blankets and were snoring within five minutes. Miranda was now inexplicably awake. Wrapping a blanket round her shoulders, she slipped out into the corridor and stopped abruptly at the sight of Legolas sitting in the window across the hall. He appeared to be staring off into space, but his head swung around to her immediately. It seemed a bit spooky in the moonlight, until he spoke.

"You cannot sleep?" She shook her head, and he motioned to the ample space left on the window ledge. She looked out into the night sky, expecting to see stars, but saw only the moon. It shined down onto the field below, turning it an eery silver.

"Are you well, Miranda?" He looked at her intently. She shivered slightly, enjoying the way her name slipped so easily off his tongue, then shrugged wryly.

"You mean after my only way home was destroyed, I was brutally attacked by vicious beasts and am now heading off into parts unknown in search of a mysterious black wolf? I feel absolutely brilliant, thanks." He nodded, then returned his gaze to the sky. She sighed.

**This is supposed to be a nice, romantic moment...** He turned back to her, and had such a serious look upon his face that she hoped the mood had struck him finally.

"The last time I looked out this window, ten thousand Uruk-hai (especially frightening Orcs) were descending upon us."

**Talk about your mood killers,** she thought, then listened in amazement as Legolas told her of the last battle at Helm's Deep.

  
  


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A/N Thanks for all the reviews

  
  



	17. Chapter 17: Revelation Number One

            As the light of false dawn filled the morning sky, Miranda and the Hobbits were already sitting on the ponies, eating bread and grumbling. By daybreak, the entire company was well on it's way to Minas Tirith. Though they rode hard, it still took nearly a fortnight to reach the White City. For the most part, Miranda and the Hobbits kept to themselves, as the Elves and Aragorn had grown short-tempered with doubt and worry.  
            As they neared the gates, Pippin straightened in his saddle, eyes brightening at the sight of the city. It was here that he had faced his worst fears, here that he'd come of age.          

            Merry thought of his ride to Minas Tirith, his first sight of the towering stone archways. He had scarce paid them notice, so great was his worry. Over and over he imagined Pippin, so small, so lost amid the great walls and heavy feet of men. Aragorn felt a slight lessening of his woe, as he gazed again upon his home. As they rode closer though, his spirits fell again. When he'd last left this city, he thought to return with his bride at his side.  
            Behind them rode Legolas, his heart filled with a nameless longing that he had not felt this past year. The last time he had ridden this road, he had glimpsed Ithilien. Ithilien, the beautiful, mystical land of his forefathers. Ithilien, where the rivers ran faster, the grass was greener and the air sweeter than any he had yet seen. Ithilien, now a charred, ruinous mess of a land devoid of life and hope. Legolas knew well the stories of his youth, and to see what had become of it broke his heart.  
             Miranda shivered in her cloak as the heavy mist that had hung in the air all day solidified into rainfall. A distant flash of lightening illuminated the rapidly darkening sky, giving her a glint of enormous stone towers and intimidating battlements. She had never felt quite so insignificant as she did now.  
            The guards recognized Aragorn immediately, and as the group rode into the city, trumpets sounded, heralding the arrival of the king. Though there were folk come out to watch the small procession, there was little talk and no cheering. Unlike the joyous goodbye that rang in his ears as he left, the atmosphere now was wary and watchful. Elrond's sharp eyes caught surreptitious movement as humans made strange signs as they caught sight of the Elves.  
            For her part, Miranda was inundated with new sensations. The first thing she noticed was the smell. Animals, waste, hay, garbage, mud, and sweat rose like heavy veil around her. As they reached the keep, she caught sight of a woman standing on the landing above them, watching their progress toward the entrance. As they neared the woman, she appeared frozen. She was very beautiful, smooth and sharp, like a blade. Her long blond hair fell down her back in waves, but she was still as stone until Aragorn and Legolas dismounted before her. Then her face broke into smile and she went to them, allowing them to bow over her hand. Miranda felt the first twinges of jealousy as she watched Legolas bow and kiss the woman's hand. She was suddenly aware that she had not bathed in over a fortnight; she was dirty and bloody and also smelled of horse. As the woman turned to the rest, her face, if it was possible, became even more radiant.  
             "Master Meriadoc!" As Miranda looked on in amazement, Merry dismounted quickly and ran to the woman, bowing low, then reaching high as the woman embraced him.  Her eyes swept over the rest, and Miranda waited for the look, the swift glance that would size her up, judge her less beautiful and therefore unthreatening and unimportant. She'd become very familiar with this look after years in London. The woman's gaze came to rest on Miranda however, and a puzzled smile lit her face briefly.  
            "But you all must be cold and hungry. Come inside, and we shall make introductions by the fire." Turning, she caught Merry's hand in her own and spoke in a low voice as they followed her inside and up a wide flight of stone steps. They passed through a heavy wooden door three men wide and two feet thick.  
            The room inside was surprisingly cozy. The tall windows were covered with thick drapes, but sconces along the walls and candelabras hanging from the ceiling, lightened the hall warmly. An enormous fireplace, tall enough for a man to walk into, crackled cheerily, while beneath their feet were sweet-smelling rushes. At a long table near the fire sat a blond man, his head resting on his hands, in a pose of great weariness. His face brightened as he caught sight of the woman, and even more as he saw whom she brought.  
            "My liege," he said, bowing his head. The relief was evident in his voice. Aragorn acknowledged the homage with a regal bow of his head, then grasped the man's shoulders in a firm embrace.  
            "It is good to see you, my friend." Aragorn's words seemed to inspire the man and he stood straighter, looking round at the strange group that filled the hall. His eyes lit on Legolas and he smiled, but when they found Elrond, the smile dissipated and he turned to Aragorn, concern evident in his eyes.  
            "Do you think their presence is wise, my lord?" Confounded, Aragorn turned first to Elrond, then back to Faramir.  
            "I'm afraid, I do not understand, friend. What worries you?" Now it was Faramir, who appeared confused.  
            "Did you not read my missive, my lord?" he said, frowning. Aragorn shook his head, slowly, a cold fear growing in his heart.  
            "I received no missive. Your messenger was killed before reaching Imladris. Only a few words could he whisper with dying breath."  
            "And what of the other messages I have sent?" asked Faramir. A faint note of desperation had appeared in his voice. Aragorn shook his head again.  
            "No other messengers came. What unease plagues your heart, Faramir? Why do you fear our allies of old?" But Faramir ignored Aragorn's questions, struggling with concern for his lost carriers.  
            "It is your people, my lord," said the blond woman. Aragorn turned to her, his frown softening.  
            "What has happened, Eowyn?" Faramir and Eowyn exchanged cryptic looks. "There is...unrest," she said slowly. "Rumors rumble among the people like thunder. News of riots in the southern towns, reports of seemingly random Orc attacks across the land. There is talk of a famine spreading quickly throughout Gondor and Rohan. The rainy season did not come this year. Gondor needs its king, my lord, but the people are afraid that – that you–" her voice broke off, and she stared unhappily at the floor. Before Aragorn could say a word, however, her eyes flew to his and she added, defiantly, "They fear you have forsaken your people for the Elves. They believe you mean to let the Elves control us, that we will be slaves. There is talk that it is they who cause the land to dry up and turn putrid." Aragorn stood still for a moment, stunned.  
            "This has been happening for months?" he said, his voice dangerously soft. "Then why was I not informed?"  
            "We've sent four runners, my king. We thought–" Faramir lost his nerve, but Aragorn was already nodding in anger.  
            "You thought the rumors held true. That I had left my country. That I had forsaken my people, the ones for whom I fought. The ones for whom I bled." The last words were uttered so low, the rest strained to hear. Faramir's proud shoulders slumped, and he looked ashamedly to the ground. Eowyn, however, held her ground and stared at Aragorn.  
            "There have been riots. Riots, here, in Minas Tirith. We trapped, unable to leave the keep, for fear of being attacked by our own people. Where were you?" Her hands gripped the back of a chair, knuckles turning white.  
            "I did not know." The room was silenced by the regret in Aragorn's voice. "I did not know." Eowyn nodded once, then turned, and walked to a window. There was another silence, then Faramir asked,  
            "If you received no pleas for your return here, then why have you?"  He looked to Aragorn, but it was another who answered.  
             "Arwen, my daughter and Evenstar of her people, and Elessar's bride-to-be, has disappeared," Elrond said, evenly. His expression remained impassive.  
             "Kidnapped," said Aragorn, roughly, running a hand impatiently over his face. From her left, Miranda heard a soft intake of breath, and turned to find Eoywn's face ashen, her hand pressed to her mouth. Her gasp went unnoticed by the others, however.  
Faramir appeared stricken, but Aragorn remained silent.  He continued rubbing his face, lack of sleep and worry evident in the deep grooves surrounding his mouth and forehead.

"You have traveled a long distance.  If it please you, I suggest we sup and discuss our next move," said Faramir.  He had pulled himself together and now stood tall and capable again.  Nodding, Aragorn led the way through the door, the Elves, Hobbits and Faramie following.  

Miranda looked back and saw that Eowyn remained at the window, her expression sad and angry at the same time.  Without knowing the reason, Miranda felt a kinship with this woman.  Perhaps it was her sadness, or her feelings of helplessness that Miranda could easily identify with.

**Or maybe because she's the first fellow woman I've seen in over a year.** Walking over to her, Miranda placed a hesitant hand on Eowyn's arm.

"Um, are you—do you want—" Miranda realized she had no clue what to say.  She was relieved when Eowyn smiled and said bluntly, "No, stranger.  There is naught you might do.  But you do keep odd company.  May I ask why you, a lone human woman, travel with warriors and Hobbits?" All sadness and anger was gone in a flash, leaving Miranda blinking in surprise.  But she was friendly and warm, completely unlike what Miranda had expected.

"It's erm….it's quite a fantastic tale.  One you might not really believe, in fact." 

Eowyn smiled invitingly, and tucked Miranda's hand into the crook of her arm, leading her down the stairs.  They entered the dining hall, where the rest were seated.

"A fantastic tale, you say?  I'm sure we all might enjoy a brief escape from our current situation.  Do tell."  
             "She is Miranda, a human woman who fell from the sky." Miranda had never heard Legolas use that tone of voice and she looked at him, to find him gazing intently at her.  
             "Umm..." She began blushing, but was saved by Eowyn's startled laugh. "You fell? From the sky? What jest is this, Master Elf?"  
            "It is no jest, but a very remarkable truth. One best told over a meal and a pint, I'd dare say," Merry said, winking at Miranda.  As servants brought in platters and mugs, Faramir, Eowyn and others listened in surprise and wonder at the story told, in part, by each of the travelers.  Although there was much speculation as to how and why Miranda had come, talk turned to Arwen.  After hours of heated argument, they came to a truce and a plan. Aragorn would make a speech before the people of Minas Tirith, and then go south with Elrond and his sons to find news of Arwen.  Faramir would go to various important Gondorian cities to spread the news of Aragorn's return.  People from Minas Tirith could confirm this.  The Hobbits would remain in Minas Tirith, along with Legolas and Gimli, to assist Eowyn in governing the city.

            "You are heroes here.  They still song of your bravery.  It will help," said Faramir, when the Hobbits and Gimli began protesting at being left behind.  Legolas remained silent, however.  He found himself quite happy to stay behind.  Miranda, obviously, would also be staying in Minas Tirith.  No one was quite sure what to do with her now.

As true darkness fell, the intense mood lightened.  Though all remained concerned about the massive problems assailing them, they needed release.  Faramir and Aragorn sang a mournful song about the fate of two doomed brothers.  A number of other songs were played, and Miranda found herself once again, whirled around the dance floor to upbeat fiddles.

Legolas watched Miranda, saw her face flush and listen to her laughter. It had been several weeks since she had laughed.  He remembered the last time.  He had come from a walk in the forest and found a group of Rivendell Elves watching the courtyard.  Miranda and Sam were playing with the dog.  She rolled on the ground with it, tugging on a length of rope, ruffling the dog's fur, hugging it and laughing.  The other Elves had been appalled by her antics, calling them childish, loud and annoying.  Legolas had been wistful, wishing it were he and not Sam with whom she wrestled.  But he could not imagine himself being that carefree any more than he could imagine Gimli dressing in Arwen's gowns and singing of his long-lost love. 

             At the circle of stones, he had meant to comfort her, to offer his friendship.  When his lips touched hers, however brief the contact was, it ignited something within him.  He had forbade himself to think of her before, knowing how quickly the time would pass ere she left.  Now, though…  Now she was not leaving.

            He glanced up in time to see her twirl by.  He mused to himself at how easily she laughed and how resilient she was.  He thought of how dull and boring he must seem to her.  Suddenly, she dropped breathless onto the bench next to him and smiled invitingly.

"Do you want to dance?"  Inside, Miranda was amazed by her own audacity. **You couldn't ask Philip Whitmore to a sixth form do, but you'll ask him?**  Legolas looked frightened for a moment and quickly said, 

"Thank you, but I do not know these sort of dances—"  Miranda felt ridiculous, thinking that the smooth, elegant Elf would want to jump around with her in her best state, let alone now with her red face and sweaty hands.

"Of course, I mean—obviously you wouldn't want—" Feeling stupid, Miranda started to move when Legolas laid a hand on hers.  He realized he had offended her somehow and did not want her to leave.

"Perhaps instead you might sing us a song of your people," he said.  Gimli, a lover of music, called out in approval, as did others.  Even Elrond looked on in interest.   Miranda laughed nervously. **Just the way to turn him off completely!**

"I could, but you wouldn't understand the words, anyway, so—" She was cut off as Merry grinned, rather cheekily.

"But Miranda," he said innocently, "We've been working on that song you sang to us in the Shire. The words fit the tune quite well, now.  Why don't you sing that?"  Miranda glared at Merry and then at the other Hobbits who made encouraging sounds.  Realizing there was no way to avoid singing without coming across as needlessly churlish, she gave in. Trying to look calm and at ease, she said,

"This is a song from my . . . people.  It's rather silly and sappy, but well….my mother used to sing it to me, and her father sang it to her, and his father sang it to him, 

so . . . ."

**Please don't let me make a fool of myself,** she thought.  Taking a deep breathe, she sang.
    
    "Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
    
    From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
    
    The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
    
    'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
    
    But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
    
    Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
    
    'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
    
    Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.
    
    "And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
    
    And I am dead, as dead I well may be
    
    You'll come and find the place where I am lying
    
    And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.
    
    "And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
    
    And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
    
    If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
    
    I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.
    
    "I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me."

Legolas leaned back, smiling slightly.  Her voice, though rough and uneven by Elven standards, was low and pleasing to him.  It was the end, however, when her voice caught and she embarrassedly swiped at her eyes, that he realized he was falling in love.


	18. Chapter 18: The Truth Hurts

##Author's Note## Thanks for the heads up about the formatting. Not sure what happened. Fanfic.net keeps messing up my paragraphs. Why? Anybody know?? So, let's see if this one works!!

  
  


Miranda sighed unhappily and paced the room's length. Since Aragorn and Faramir had left almost a fortnight ago, she had scarcely left the room. Everyone else had important things to do, and though she tried to read, it was very frustrating. It did not help that the only novels around were military histories.  


This morning, Eowyn was in meetings with her advisors. The Hobbits were traveling around the city talking with people, giving speeches and, Miranda suspected, drinking and eating quite a bit. Even Legolas and Gimli had left three days ago to hunt, leaving her completely alone. 

  
  


The intense sun which had shone unceasingly for weeks, was fading behind clouds. It was her favorite weather. The wind picked up and became wild, while the clouds rolled menacingly above. Unable to contain her restlessness, Miranda called to Maggie and slipped out of the keep. The gates to the city were open and people rushed in and out in thick streams. Merging into one group, Miranda found herself swept along, and suddenly outside the city.  


**Trees! I''ve missed trees,** she thought. **God, even in London there are parks!** Maggie happily scampered off toward the forest, while Miranda followed at a more leisurely pace. As she entered the cool forest, her mind drifted to Legolas. He had been acting strangely in the past two weeks. Though she often felt his eyes on her, he seemed to avoid talking to her. In any case, he and Gimli seemed joined at the hip.  


As she walked, she never forgot to keep the gates within sight. She was within earshot of the guards and felt quite safe. It was, therefore, a rather nasty surprise when something clamped over her mouth and an acrid stench filled her nose.  


"Lookit here," said a nasally, heavily accented voice near her ear. A great, grey face suddenly peered into hers and her eyes widened in fright. It was an Orc, like the ones from before. But these were thin and sickly looking. Their tough skin hung in wrinkles from their bones, their eyes sunk into their ugly skulls.  


"A nice snack. She did promise us lots of manflesh," said the grey one. Miranda shrank away from his grasping fingers. He was licking his lips hungrily and baring his teeth. Then he grabbed her upper arm and squeezed viciously. "The mother has provided. And it''s a plump and juicy one!" That was the last straw. She sank her teeth into the Orc's hand and it let go of her mouth with a yelp.  


"Bloody buggers," she yelled. "Calling me fat, you ugly, arse-faced--" A glimpse of green leather caught her eye. Legolas and the hunting party. He was closing in stealthily, his bow drawn. Using every trick learned from countless hours of watching police dramas on television and one pathetic self-defense class, Miranda pulled her head forward, then slammed it back as hard as she could. A sickening crunch and yell from her captor told her she'd broken his nose. 

Where was Legolas? The other Orc was closing in, reaching for her. Forcing her weight to fall back on his instep, she pushed backwards on his arm and slid down, slipping out from his grasp. The grey Orc roared in anger and grabbed at her, his claws scraping down her back, tearing her tunic and skin.  


**Where is he?** she thought. Trying not to vomit with fear, she ran toward the keep, but felt thick hands grab her throat and start to twist. Again she broke away, gasping in fear and shock. Suddenly, Miranda heard the whistle of Legolas''s arrows and did not need to look to see that the Orcs were dead. She turned to thank him, late though he was, but before she could speak,  


"What were you doing outside the keep?" he blazed at her. "You might have been killed. Had your dog not alerted us, we would not have been in time--"  


"Hey! I got out ok. I got away from them and I would have-"  


"You would have died when they caught you before you were five feet away!" Legolas was shouting now. The surprise of seeing such emotion on his usually impassive face was too much on top of her harrowing experience. Miranda's heart was still beating too fast. She had been so frightened and now lashed out at the closest person.  


"Yeah? Right, then. Well, at least I got away. If I'd waited until you finally got there, I'd be dead. Could you have been any slower?" Shoving at him, she turned and stalked off toward the keep.  


Watching her, Legolas felt blood surging in his ears, and he realized his hands were clenched into fists at his side. He wanted to swear, except he did not know how. He wanted to punch or hit something. He wanted to strangle Miranda for her ability to cause these feelings. Breathing deeply, he slowly smiled. He felt vibrant and alive. Gimli and the humans were shocked to see an Elf grin, then kick a lifeless Orc.  
  
*************

**Stupid git. Who does he bloody well think he is? My savior, my foot. God, I hate this place. I hate being scared all the time. I hate being so bloody weak.** As Miranda stormed into the keep, she ran into Eowyn in the hallway. Miranda turned her head into the shadow to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

"My lady!" Eowyn's face revealed the damage that Miranda could not see herself.

"Uh, little run-in with some Orcs. I'm fine," Miranda said, shrugging evasively. She could feel the cool touch of Eowyn's hand on her shoulder.

"You are not, Miranda. Come with me." Taking Miranda's arm in a surprisingly strong grip, she led the other woman into a small, bright room. Miranda sat on the high stool and held still as Eowyn carefully cut the tunic away from her back. She swallowed heavily as she saw the bloody bits of clothe falling to the floor. Blood did not bother her. Her own blood, however. . .

"Why did you leave the keep unescorted?" Eowyn seemed intent on her task of washing out the wounds.

"I-I was bored." Miranda winced at the stupidity of that answer. "More than bored, really. It's just..."

"You have nothing to do and no one to talk to? You feel restless and uneasy?" Miranda blinked at Eowyn.

**You can't read my mind, can you?** she thought, nervously. Eowyn was mashing something green with a pestle and mortar, though, and did not look up.

"Yes. That's exactly it. Everyone else is out doing something noble and worthy, and I'm here sitting around, looking pretty. I - I'm just not used to being superfluous, I suppose. And I feel silly. I can't even defend myself for a walk. And then Legolas was-well, rude to me," Miranda broke of lamely, embarrassed. Eowyn glanced up quickly, then returned her attention to the poultice she made, smiling slightly.

"I remember that useless feeling well. Sitting by the window, watching the empty fields, waiting for something to happen. Wishing I could fight, rather than wait and hope." She looked at Miranda from underneath her lashes. "Why do you not do what I did?"

"What's that?"

"Learn to fight." Eowyn pressed the poultice onto Miranda's back, sending waves of stinging pain through her. Miranda gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, but did not call out. "You have courage, my friend. Ask someone to teach you to fight.....Legolas, perhaps?" 

Miranda thought about Legolas, imagined him wrapping his arms around her to demonstrate a move, and felt her face go red.

**Hmm, not a bad idea, that.**

"So...I guess I could go talk to him. I was a little....unfriendly before."

". . ."

************

Miranda was surprised to find Legolas only too willing to help her learn the ways of the sword. As the days grew shorter and the chill winds began blowing, Miranda found herself in the armory courtyard, worked mercilessly by a cruel, but very hot master.

"Again." Legolas seemed as calm and unruffled as ever.

**Bastard,** Miranda thought, as she rolled over and heaved herself to her feet. She was sweaty and dirty from being knocked down again and again. Legolas waited until she had picked up her sword and then swung at her. Her biceps screamed and her deltoids threatened to strike, but she swung upwards and met his thrust with a clang. He reversed his swing and she ripped her own weapon around to parry his, ignoring the pain. Another clang ran out. She had blocked! For the first time, she had blocked.

"You are improving. Slowly, but nonetheless. Rest now for a while." He turned and left the courtyard, preventing her from seeing the smile on his face as she cursed in his wake.

"'You're improving. Slowly,'" Miranda mimicked, then groaned. In three months she had had more exercise than in her previous 28 years. Every muscle ached. But she was learning. Eowyn drilled her through moves in the afternoon that Legolas had taught in the morning. The Hobbits had come for a while, but they were afraid of being forced to practice as well, and hid behind curtains, giggling together as Miranda yelled strange, obviously unflattering words at Legolas's back.

In spite of her pain, she was enjoying herself. Being with him was fun and so easy. She never found herself wracking her mind for conversation, nor chattering idly. Sometimes, when they were alone, he would share stories of his own training, stories wherein he met with the flat end of a sword over and over. 

The muted sound of hoofbeats on dirt called her out of her thoughts. Looking up she saw Legolas motioning her out of the courtyard.

"You have worked well and without complaint. Today, we will do something different. This is Arod." Miranda's eyes widened in admiration as the stallion bounded up the them. His head was held high and his eyes rolled from side to side in excitement, huffing breath in bursts from his nostrils.

Miranda held out her hand and he deigned to give it a quick sniff, then turned his large head to Legolas and nudged him hard in the chest. Legolas laughed and caressed Arod's cheek fondly. He leaned close and whispered something in Elvish and Arod stood very still, his flanks quivering. Looking at Miranda, Legolas patted the horse's back and raised an eyebrow.  


`Here goes nothing!` Placing her knee in Legolas's cupped hands, she found herself straddling the horse in the blink of an eye. Taking the reins, she reseated herself more comfortably, surprised at the softness of the saddle. The stirrups were longer than she was used to and she shortened them, easily shifting her weight back and forth. It felt like being home again. She clucked softly and off they flew. 

  
  


The ride was smooth, even over the cobblestone of the road and Miranda closed her eyes as the wind whipped fast. Nearly two thousand pounds of flesh and solid muscles trembled between her thighs and she held power over it. The feeling thrilled her. Giving Arod his head, Miranda leaned close over his shoulder and marveled at the euphoria that swept over her.  


Watching them return to him, Legolas wondered at the secretive smile on her lips and the ease with which she sat the horse. Was she part-Rohan in some distant way? Arod came galloping up and shuddered to a halt, panting and pawing the ground. His joy in being able to run free was apparent to Legolas.  


"You sit remarkably well," Legolas said, holding up his arms to help her down. She wheeled the horse around, but continued to grin down at him. Atop Arod, she felt powerful, in control.  


"My grandparents bred Arabians. Whiny, fussy lot, but elegant. I rode before I walked." Arod reared suddenly, but Miranda held her seat.  


"Any one may stay astride an animal when a saddle holds them on. Could you do that when riding Elven-fashion?" Te familiar arrogance had returned to his voice and Miranda narrowed her eyes.

"Not a problem," she said, swinging down. He removed the saddle and helped her mount again. As she nudged Arod into a trot, then into a run, Legolas blinked in surprise. Though her seat was rough and loud by Elven standards, he hadn't expected Miranda, to sit so well. As he watched, she called to him and motioned. He looked to where she pointed and saw a wall, nearly waist high, of stone. He shook his head in alarm and called out to stop her, but she ignored him. Feeling a sense of unfamiliar panic he ran toward them as she and Arod raced toward the wall. At the last second, Arod jumped, and barely cleared the wall; Miranda bounced around on his back, but did not fall off. She slid off, and turned to grin at Legolas. Her grin faded as she saw the cold fury in his face.

"That was a foolish, arrogant thing to do," he siad, his voice low and controlled.

"Why? I've jumped a horse before. Not that big a deal," she said, her voice turning cold to amtch his. Why was he yelling at her for no reason.

"You mght have been killed! You have much to learn, and yet you run into things without thinking. What if you had hurt Arod?" This last bit was flung out in desperation. He had a feeling she was not getting his point.

"For Chris sakes!" Miranda exhaled. "I'm sick to death of your bitching and your condescending attitude! I'm not a child, Legolas. I don't need to be treated like an irresponsible teenager. And I don't need some full of himself Elf to tell me what to do and judge me!" Biting back even more angry words, she turned on her heel and strode back toward the keep, furiously blinking back tears. She wasn't sure what had just happened. He had made her so defensive and she did not understand why.

**Forget it,** she told herself. **A nice, hot bath and rest will make you feel much better.**

  
  


*********

  
Sitting in the bath, Miranda eyed the ugly purple bruise on her upper left thigh. A trail of long bruises, roughly an inch wide, trailed down her right side, while the left had odd, round-shaped ones. She stood, when the water grew cool, and wrapped herself in the thin towel provided. As she sat on the bed, she was overcome with homesickness. She was tired of never knowing what was going on. She was sick of being scared or bored. She missed television and a comfortable bed. Where was the Vodka and techno music? 

Though she had come to love Sam and Frodo dearly, she wished Rachael were there to discuss every aspect of Legolas from his ambivalent attitude to his blue eyes to his....well, Rachael would discuss that, anyway. She missed familiarity. Tears formed slowly, then unleashed in a torrent of sobbing. Her crying wasn't delicate or mournful. It was hard and vicious. Her face grew hot and red; her nose ran and she gulped in air, clutching the pillow like a lifeline. Eventually, it subsided to sniffles and hiccups. She felt marginally better.  


As she reached for her ubiquitous tunic, a bit of leather caught her eye. Her rucksack. She wasn't going to be leaving the room for the evening. Couldn''t she wear normal clothes....just this once? Crossing the room quickly, glancing furtively out the window, she pulled out the clothing originally intended for the drive home from Scotland. Her oldest, softest jeans with rips in the knees and under one ass-cheek were on top. She pulled them out with a smile. Out of the pocket stuck a pair of plain black cotton pants. She pulled them on with glee. 

Never, no matter how long she lived, would she ever grow used to going around without knickers! Though it wasn't cold enough for the heavy lambswool sweater, she could still wear the plain black tank, again of old, washed out cotton. Crossing over to the mirror, she eyed herself critically.  


**I'll never be tall. And I'll never be thin. But bloody hell! Would you look at that arse!** She grinned at herself, twisting this way and that. A little bit of familiarity. If only she could go out dancing. Or turn Lenny Kravitz up on the stereo as loud as it would go, singing and dancing her heart out. Music! Of course! Stuffed at the bottom of the rucksack was her discman.  


**The batteries are probably long dead or fried from the trip here,** she told herself as she placed the headphones over her ears. She placed play and was overjoyed to hear the soft whirring as it sprang to life. Santana's sultry chords made her smile devilishly. Before she knew it, her hips were moving to the beat and she sang along softly to herself, dancing around the room. 

Alone, she lost all inhibitions and let loose her frustrations through the dance, her eyes closed tightly, the music loud in her ears. Loud enough that she didn''t hear the knocking. Or the door opening. Or someone coming in. Getting into it deep and seductive, the moves she would never use in public, Miranda writhed in a circle, smiling to herself. Slowly her eyes drifted open.  


**Oh boy.**

  


********  
Legolas stood at the wall, and looked out over the field. He replayed the scene with Miranda over and over again in his mind. Why had he spoken so harshly? Why did she affect him like this? Though he hadn't understand half her words, he knew they stemmed from hurt and anger, rather than truth of feeling. He shook his head. He should apologize. She was most likely still in her chamber. He would go and apologize and then this uncomfortable feeling would diminish.  


Taking the stairs three at a time, he reached her door and knocked. And knocked again. He could hear scuffling noises, though, on the other side. Perhaps she was in trouble and needed his help. He tried the handle and found it unlocked. Opening the door stealthily, he crept into the room... and stopped dead in his tracks.  


Her eyes were closed and her arms above her head. Her head was thrown back as though in some sort of trance, but her hips moved in suggestive circles, turning her entire body in widening curves. He had never seen such blatantly sexual movement in his entire life. For the first time, all conscious thought disappeared from his mind and his mouth turned bone-dry. She crossed her forearms behind her head and lifted her heavy hair off her neck, rubbing her cheek sensually against her arm. 

As she turned, the strange black garment she wore parted from the odd breeches and revealed a narrow expanse of pale skin. Thought returned to his head in a jumble and he suddenly wanted to do things he''d never thought of before. As though pulled by an unseen force, he began to move towards her and lifted his hand to touch her when her eyes drifted open. Sleepy green eyes met wide blue ones and for a moment, she smiled invitingly and he moved toward her.  
  
********  
**You are so insanely beautiful,** Miranda thought, entranced. She stood completely still, as he moved toward her. She couldn't have moved, had she even wanted. He seemed to be glowing. Later, she would dismiss it as her imagination, leftover tears blurring her vision. But just then, he was magical, ethereal, and yet... solid. 

  
  


As he moved closer, she tilted her head, mesmerized by his eyes. His gaze was so intense, he looked almost angry, yet it made her stomach turn buttery and drop down between her legs. Reaching out, he trailed his fingers lightly up her arm to her throat. His fingers were cool, but left behind a line of fire.  


**He's going to kiss me,** she thought dimly. And then he did, and all thought fled. 

******  


Legolas stiffened in surprise. When his lips had touched hers, he'd felt a shock run through his entire body. As he deepened the kiss, it felt as though he were suddenly coming alive. He could feel every tiny inch of his body that touched hers as though it were burning. But she hadn't moved. Fearful he'd imagined her looks he started to back away, and stopped abruptly when her hands grasped his tunic, her fingers grazing his collarbone.  


"Oh, no you don't," she whispered with a smile. She backed up a few feet, pulling him along, until her back hit the wall. Then, to his surprise, she kissed him. He stopped thinking and simply felt. Her heat enveloped him and it was glorious, like holding a living flame. Her arms went around him and held him close, even as he pressed closer, wanting to devour.  
  
********  


As the kiss lightened, Miranda drifted back to herself slowly. She could feel his hands running over her skin, and would have happily died. Dreamily, her mind began to work again, as his mouth slipped down to behind her jaw.  


Sex with angels. That is what it would be like. Elves were too ethereal, too pure and timeless to engage in such a base, animalistic act like sex. At the same time, they were of the earth, created of its soil and their blood ran hot. Perhaps that was their allure, their siren song-- a touch of the forbidden, the fantasy.  


He trailed kisses up her temple and pressed his forehead against hers. Lazily, she opened her eyes.  


"Miranda," he said, his breath coming heavily. "For so long, I have wanted to tell you--"  


"Oi, Miranda? Are ye in there?" Pippin's voice fell over them like icy water and they sprang apart in surprise as he and Merry came bursting through the door. "We've got a problem that ye hafta solve or--" Pippin broke off as he sensed the tension in the room. He and Merry looked suspiciously from Miranda's flushed face to Legolas and paused in astonishment. The Elf's normally pristine hair was mussed and his normally serene face was livid. Turning slowly, he glared at the Hobbits. Gulping nervously, Merry began to back up, pulling Pippin.  


"Ermm, I think we--uh, Oh dear, there's Sam. We'd best run along," he said hastily, closing the heavy door. As the door swung shut, however, trumpets split the air.  


"Aragorn," said Legolas, looking out the window. "He has returned." Running a hand through his hair, he stalked out the door. The few who caught a glimpse stopped in their tracks, amazed to see the slightly unsteady gait as he moved down the passageway.  


Miranda remained where she'd been, staring at the now closed door in shock. Shaking her head, she grinned dazedly and thought,  


'Well, fuck me,' she said aloud to the empty room.  



	19. Chapter 19: He's Baack!

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1 **WAHOOOO!!  Soooooo done!  Unless I flunked a final.  Now, it's C-Bear, B.S., B.A.  Oh yeah, baby.  Thanks for all the encouragement.  This is a short chapter, but better than nothing, I hope!

  
            "_PIP-pin_!"  Pippin stiffened guiltily at the annoyance in Merry's voice and hurried down from his perch on the balcony.  Scampering around the corner, he ran full tilt into Merry and Sam, knocking them over.  As Frodo shoved open the heavy wooden door, the odd sight of a pile of Hobbits greeted him. 

            "Is everyone quite all right?"  Hoisting Sam up by the arm, Frodo caught the half amused, half resentful glare on Merry's face.  Frodo looked to Pippin, who stood with arms clasped behind him, innocently whistling to himself.

            "Do I want to know what happened?"  

Merry grinned. "Your cousin has discovered a hidden knothole that looks into the ladies' bathing room.  He has become rather enamored of the human women's—" A loud cough from a red-faced Sam drowned out Merry's words. Pippin shrugged.

            "They're a bit large, aye, but I canna imagine anythin' better then restin my head aginst a lass's—"

            "Pippin!" Sam and Merry roared. Frodo laughed and shook his finger at his wayward cousin.

            "You're going to get us all kicked out, dear Pippin.  Do _you_ fancy walking back to the Shire on foot?"

            Pippin grinned again and sighed theatrically. "A laddie must do what a laddie must do.  Such things don' happen in the Shire!  Ye willna forbid me a wee bit o' fun, now, will ye?"   Frodo smiled helplessly and took Pippin by his shoulder, motioning Sam to grab the other side.

            "I think perhaps a nice dip might cool 'em off, eh?" said Sam, winking at Frodo.  Heaving Pippin out the door, they upended him into a large water trough.  Arod, who stood sipping delicately, eyed the new edition with distain and swiped at Pippin with his tail.

            Spluttering, Pippin glared at the other Hobbits in mock anger. "Ye'll pay for this, ye will!"  The other three merely laughed and ambled off in search of new entertainment… and perhaps elevenses.

            Within the innermost chamber of the stone keep, Lord Elrond stood by the window, wishing he could feel the soothing coolness of spring rain upon his face.  The sky was cloudy and dreary, but not a single drop had fallen in months.  Aragorn leaned against the fireplace, sipping wearily from a goblet.

            "Are you absolutely certain she is within this mountain?"  Faramir asked.  Aragorn rubbed the bridge of his nose.

            "Aye, as much as I can be.  Hundreds spoke of an Elf witch with black powers.  She has slept for an age, but has now awakened.  The peoples surrounding her mountain pay her homage and bring her gifts.  In return, she has made their lands green and ripe.  In Gondor, the people are still loyal to me, so they say, and she has forbidden the skies to rain and causes the clouds to block out the sun.  She has called the Orcs to her, and they go in massive numbers, from the darkest caves and deepest tunnels.

            There have been a number of reports of a black wolf disappearing into the mountain with something large and human-shaped on its back."

            "Or Elf-shaped," said Elrond sternly.

            Aragorn nodded.  "But it still does not tell us _why_.  Why did she take Arwen?"  He slammed his fist into the stone wall, not wincing when his knuckles split open.  "We must go, now, with an army.  My lord, you must call your people to come and help us."

            Elrond closed his eyes briefly, as though in pain.  "My people are gone.  Arwen made her choice when she decided to remain.  There is no one to come."  Aragorn stiffened, and turned to face Elrond.

            Though to the other Men, Elrond's face appeared quite impassive, Aragorn recognized the anger and blame he saw there.  His shoulders slumped and he turned away, unable to face his foster father.

            "I am to blame," he whispered. "It is my fault."  A long moment of silence followed.  Then Legolas moved to stand in front of Aragorn and placed his hand on Aragorn's shoulder.

            "Do not despair, my friend.  There is yet hope."   When Legolas squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, Aragorn dragged his eyes up to meet those of Legolas. "We will fight with you."  Aragorn looking into Legolas calm eyes and saw the reassurance there.  He looked down and saw Gimli, chest puffed out and hand on axe.

            "Aye," he nodded, gruffly.  

            "Aye," said a soft, clear voice. Aragorn looked over to the far window, where Eowyn stood, tall and straight. "You were willing to give everything for my people.  I could not but do the same for you."  Whatever protestations rose in Faramir were quelled as he saw the quiet determination in his wife's eyes.  She had been held back twice before; she would not be held back this time.

            "And the three pairs of ears listening at the door will no doubt wish to accompany us, as well," Elrond said, dryly.   At his motioning, Elrohir opened the heavy wooden door, admitting a waterfall of Hobbits.  Scrambling to their feet, Merry, Pippin and Sam began making excuses for their appearance, but gave up when they saw Aragorn laughing.

            "Merry!" Pippin's voice squeaked in excitement. "Go get Frodo!  We're goin on a new adventure!" As the rest of the room watched the Hobbits' excited antics, Aragorn met Elrond's eyes silently.  He had not missed the significance of Elrond's words.  There might yet be hope.

            With renewed purpose and hope, Aragorn moved to begin preparations when a thought struck him.

            "Sam," he said, turning. "I have news that could be of interest to Miranda.  Is she here?"  Unable to help himself, Sam's eyes turned toward Legolas and he (Sam) blushed.  Pippin and Merry had wasted no time in telling him what they had interrupted. Aragorn caught the not-so-surreptitious glance, but said nothing.

            "She's-" his voice broke.  Clearing his throat, he said, "She's in her chamber above, I reckon."

            "Fetch her here," Aragorn ordered.  "There is something I would discuss with her."  Turning back to the desk, Aragorn noted how Legolas watch him.  Something had indeed occurred in his absence.  Before he could ask the Elf, however, a loud knock on the door announced the return of the Hobbits with Miranda.

            After a happy greeting, Aragorn stated his reason for calling her.  "In these long months, I have spoken with many foreign peoples in my search for the Lady Arwen.  I heard mysterious stories of young women who appeared as though from the air."

Miranda stiffened in surprise.  What was he saying?

"In the mountains far to the south of these lands, I happened upon a remote people who

worship a mountain.  At the top of this mountain, they say, is a ring of stones.  Magical stones, or so they say.  For hundreds upon hundreds of years, women have appeared in this circle- strange women who spoke no language and wore garments of unnatural materials.  It is always the same.  They appear or disappear on the summer solstice."  Aragorn looked at Miranda intently.  She stared at him, dumbfounded and confused.

"Do you understand what I am telling you?" he asked, impatiently. "I believe I may have found a way to return you to your world."


	20. Chapter 20: Whence I Shall Return

Miranda stared dumbly at Aragorn. "Wha- How? What?"  She frowned.  "I don't understand.  I thought this was unique- only a one shot deal."

"As did we, my lady, but it seems that perhaps we were mistaken.  In truth, I had thought you would be more enthused about the possibility of returning home." Aragorn looked on as Miranda squirmed slightly and shrugged.

"I- it's just so, well, sudden.  I hadn't expected- I thought-" She stuttered to a halt.  Her mind was racing as hundreds of disjointed thoughts filled her head.

**Home!  Where there are hot showers and Diet Coke!  Where there's light and safety and normal stuff and friends-** Suddenly, she caught sight of Sam.  He stood slightly to her left, his eyes downcast, his face sad. **How could you leave Sam?** she asked herself.  A tiny voice answered, slyly, though, saying, **Well, it's not like you see him all that much anymore anyway.  He's always traipsing around with Frodo, off having fun, leaving you to get your arse kicked by Leg-** 

Again, her eyes shot up, this time finding Legolas.  Expecting to find an anxious, perhaps even sad expression, her heart sank to see him smiling at her.

"Home, Miranda!  You can go back to your own land, to your own people."  His voice was even-toned and encouraging.  She blinked rapidly, as tears threatened to spill.  Was this the same Elf who, not twenty-four hours ago, kissed her rotten? 

 Dimly, she heard Aragorn saying something about having a council in the morning to decide how to proceed in the rescue of Arwen. She found herself being led to the dining hall by Sam.  Pleading a headache, she quickly escaped to her chamber, never turning around to see the heart-broken look finally appearing on Legolas's face.  
  
  



	21. Chapter 21: In Which the Action Starts

Sam sat on a low bench along the edge of the training ring, watching Miranda and Eowyn spar.  Though Eowyn was by far the better swordsman, Miranda held her own, having been trained the past few months by Legolas.  Legolas, however, had seemingly disappeared in the past two weeks.  He and Aragorn were holed up in the battle room with several of Gondor's top generals, planning their attack.  Sam had watched Miranda as she waited each day at the usual time.  Though she said nothing, Sam saw the disappointment on her face when only Eowyn appeared.  

He sighed, and shifted his buttocks into a more comfortable position, wishing he had a pipe and some Shire weed.  The thought of the Shire brought tears to his eyes as he thought of his beloved Rosie.

"Ah, Rose…" he whispered to himself.  He missed her beyond reason, but Frodo would not leave Aragorn in his time of need, and Sam would not leave Frodo.  Since they had left the Shire, Frodo had come alive again.  Though he would occasionally stare off into the fire, or grimace in hidden pain, Frodo seemed much more animated.  Here, he had a purpose. 

 Sam wondered at the difference in his friend.  He thought to the last time they traveled through Gondor.  The Ring had weighed so heavily on Frodo, he could think of nothing but it.  Now, Frodo would smile sometimes.  He sat companionably with Miranda and Sam in the evenings, telling stories and remembering.  When he returned to the Shire, Sam feared Frodo would again withdraw into himself.  And so he was torn between his love for Rose and his love for Frodo.

He sighed one last time and noticed that the sun was nearly directly above.  Pushing off the bench, he went in search of luncheon. 

**********

Miranda stared out the window, tapping her hand impatiently against her thigh.  In the past month since Aragorn's return, the snow had started to melt, leaving the ground muddy and the early March sky, grey.  She watched the rain run off the roof of the building below her window and splash dully into a great, round barrel. 

The Hobbits would come soon to accompany her to dinner. Faramir was hosting a farewell dinner for the one hundred soldiers who were accompanying Aragorn and Elrond.  It had been agreed that Miranda would come along so that she would be in the area for the next summer solstice.

As the weeks progressed, Miranda had become more and more interested in the idea of returning home.  

**And it has nothing to do with the fact I've become invisible to a certain Elf,** she thought sourly. Legolas was avoiding her, she was positive. **He buggered off quickly enough.  Why? He wanted me!  _That _was bloody obvious. Typical male.  One hint of closeness and off they go.** She groaned in frustration and anger. 

Her plans had finalized when she had heard of Aragorn's decree: _No humans were allowed in the Shire._ She had nowhere else to go.

"Just think, Miranda!  You can go home, Miranda!  Leave me alone so I can go snog some skinny, celestial Elf princess, Miranda," she mimicked snidely.  "Well have at it, Legolas.  I don't need this crap again."

 Refusing to wear a dress (**What for?  No one here gives a damn about what I wear**), she had pulled on her old jeans and a tunic given to her by Eowyn.  Fixing a look of bored indifference to cover up the hurt, she went down the stairs to the hall with Merry and Pippin.  

            The dinner began as a somber, quiet affair.  The idea of possible war and the reason for their departure restrained the people.  As the night wore on, however, and the alcohol flowed freely, the magnitude of what they were about to do became apparent.  Soldiers began to enjoy their possible last night in their homes, and as music filled the room, dancers appeared on the floor.

            At the main dais, Legolas concentrated on not looking at Miranda.  He was afraid if he looked, he would not be able to look away.  His inability to maintain his composure around her was unnerving.  For over twenty  SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1yén, he had fought countless foes, braved terrifying monsters and dealt with hundreds of court dilemmas.  None had affected him as much as she. It simply made no sense. 

When Aragorn had first uttered the words of another stone circle, his heart had contracted.  When she had looked up, hope and joy apparent on her face, his heart had slowed.  And when she had not come to him, but instead had spent the evening with the Hobbits, talking of her home, it shriveled. 

 Of course, she would want to go home.  All logical thought had fled and he had avoided her, certain that if they were to talk, he would try to prevent her from leaving.  And he would not do that.  So he sat, miserable, and stared at the floor until a hand appeared on his knee.  He looked up into Eowyn's concerned face.

            "Are you well?" she asked sympathetically. He blinked in surprise.  He was not used to humans asking, or even caring about his feelings.  Then again, he was not entirely used to having such feelings. He smiled weakly at her and nodded. She squeezed his arm lightly and whispered, "Go talk to her."  Demoralized by a human meddling into his affairs, he simply nodded again.

            Legolas had not looked her way the entire night.  Miranda was feeling hurt and angered in turns.  She drank steadily.  The Hobbits had abandoned her to talk with the soldiers, Aragorn was busy conversing with Faramir and even Gimli had found a kind-faced woman to chat up.  

Mirnada glanced up, trying to seem nonchalant and froze.  Legolas was smiling up at a pretty blond woman.

**Eowyn,** Miranda thought, narrowing her eyes. **Hmph.  So that's why he scampered off.  I obviously wasn't beautiful enough.  Screw him.**  Logically, she knew there was nothing going on between them, but in her frustration, Eowyn was an easy target.  Deciding the night was a lost cause; she pushed the food on her plate around a bit more and then thought it best to leave. She sighed and stood abruptly, bumping into someone.

"Whoops, pardon-" She looked up into familiar eyes.  Her face started to light up, but then became guarded.

"What do you want?" she asked rudely.  Legolas frowned slightly, but opened his mouth to apologize for his recent behavior.  

Nothing.  The words would not come. He could not make himself apologize. He stared down at her, willing her to understand.  She glared back for a moment, but her attention was captured by the triangle formed by his clavicle at the base of his throat. Miranda stared mutely at the collar of his tunic, where it met the pale skin of his throat.  
  


**Huh. No hair, ** she thought, idly. **Wonder if the rest of him is as smooth?** Shaking her head, she avoided his gaze. Thoughts jumbled around in her head, tangling themselves, confusing and confounding her. The silence became a living thing, heavy and awkward.  **I don't need this,** she decided blearily.

She tipped her glass back and snagged another as a servant went by. She stumbled slightly, but righted herself quickly.  Legolas's lips narrowed in disapproval.  
  


"You are drunk, my lady," he said, attempting to take her goblet. Miranda snorted.  
  


"Not nearly drunk enough, my LORD." She slapped his hand away. "And I'll thank you to stop trying to commandeer my glass." Gliding away, or so she thought, she tossed down the rest of the wine and looked around for someone to talk to. Christ, was there no one here she knew?  She bumped into someone again, and, pardoning herself, decided to make for her chambers.  At the doorway, she paused and looked back into the hall, looking for him.

**There.  What is her-** Her mouth tightened angrily as she saw him lean into the tall, redheaded woman standing next to him.  Miranda watched as the woman smiled up at him and nodded.  **Bloody hell!  Two in one night!**  She turned on her heel, stuck her nose in the air, and marched off to her room.

******************

 "Of course," said the redheaded woman.  "I'll make sure she reached her chamber unscathed." Smiling sweetly at him, she moved away.  Legolas had stopped the human servant and asked her to follow Miranda to her chambers.  He had seen exactly how unwelcome his own presence would be.

He crossed the room and slipped out the door into the cold, cloudy night.  He needed to be away from all these humans, all this dead stone.  He wanted to be around living, green things for a while.

************

The convoy moved quickly and fairly silently south from Minas Tirith.  They rode hard through the melting snow and reached the border of the South Lands in just over a fortnight.  

            Legolas rode at the front with Aragorn, frequently disappearing into the night to scout ahead.  He brought back news of large groups of Orcs, all heading south.  They seemed intent on their destination, however, and did not seek out the Elves and humans.

            Miranda rode near the back, unhappy and cold.  Sam had tried to chatter with her, but he was having trouble maintaining his own smile.  He missed Rose fiercely and thought of almost nothing else.

            Surprisingly, it was Gimli who proved to be the most agreeable companion.  He stayed at her side for most of the trip, staying silent when she seemed most gloomy and charming her into smiles with his gruff, but well-meaning humour.

            Nearly a month after they'd set out from Minas Tirith, they camped less than day's ride from the base of the mountain.  Thunder had rumbled ominously in the east all day and by midnight, a torrential downpour began.

            Having not seen rain in half a year, the humans laughed and pointed, reveling in the cool, wet air.  

            Had they seen the mountain more clearly, however, they would not have cheered.  In an aerie near the top of the gray mountain, a  tall figure dressed in long black robes raised her hands above her head and swayed as she chanted.  Above her, the clouds rolled frantically in the blackening sky and finally expelled their water.

            Satisfied with her work, the witch returned to her darkened chamber, a fissure deep within the mountain's heart.  She stared into the blue fire that burned in the center of the room for a long time.  Without turning, she murmured, "He's coming, he's almost here.  Almost mine."  In the dark, the tall figure crouched in the corner glared at the witch's back.  Her arms and legs were tied to stone rings, preventing movement, no matter how hard she struggled.  Eventually, she sat quietly, observing her surroundings and waiting for the moment when she was finally released from her bonds. 

**********

            After nearly 3 days of raining, the skies cleared of clouds, but remained cold and gray.  The ground had turned into rivers of mud.  Great, black swirls of it wrapped themselves around young plant life and trees.  Miranda had never been more miserable.  Huddled inside her soaking wool cape, she berated herself for not having brought the elven cloak.

            **Stupid pride,** she thought, shivering as a droplet slid down her temple, onto her neck and down her shirt.  She sniffed loudly and wiped her nose awkwardly on her arm.

            As they neared the mountain, they had sent scouts out for signs of guards or armies, but found no one.  Apprehensive, Legolas and Aragorn led the convoy to the base, to a dark cavern that seemed to be an entrance.  It proved to me a long tunnel.  As they stood outside, discussing their next move, it began to rain again.

            **The hell with this!**  Miranda slid into the cavern behind Aragorn and sighed as the rain ceased to beat down on her.  At the lip of the cavern, Elves and humans began to get the same idea.

            A low rumble made Miranda sit up, looking around.  Gimli, who had taken up next to her, only snored more loudly.  Another low rumble came, not loud enough to be heard, only felt.  As she looked around in alarm, Miranda met Legolas's gaze.  He was looking at her so intently, she felt her heartbeat faster and started to return his smile in spite of her nervousness.  Suddenly the low rumble turned into an earsplitting scream as enormous piles of rock began to fall from the ceilings.

            Something hard hit Miranda, knocking her farther back into the cavern.  Something long and silky was in her mouth and she tried to spit it out, but only succeeded in gasping in more dust and rock debris.

            As quickly as it had begun, it was over.  Miranda blinked to clear her eyes and realized that the hard thing that had hit her was Legolas.  His head was mere inches from her own and it was his hair that had gotten in her mouth.  She tried to spit it out delicately, but Legolas paid no attention.

            "Are you hurt?" he whispered, gracefully patting the sides of her head.  She shook her head no and tried to control her breathing.  He slid his thumb over her cheekbone and cradled her cheek with his palm.  She couldn't take it.

            "Legolas, I'm sorry I-" 

"Legolas, I believe we are trapped."  Miranda and Legolas swiveled their head around to see Gimli poking at the great pile of rock. Somewhere in the avalanche, he had lost his helmet, and his hair stuck up in great, bushy masses around his head. Blood dripped down the side of his nose from narrow cut on his forehead. 

Miranda could feel millions of tiny stones- _sharp_, tiny stones, digging into her side where she'd landed. High above them, they could see tiny patches of light, but they were too high above and the walls too sheer to climb to.

Legolas stood up carefully and gently hauled Miranda to her feet. While Miranda groaned softly and rubbed her lacerated hip, Legolas cautiously prodded the fallen rock, but it went too far.  They were trapped.

            "Well," Gimli said grimly, "It looks as though we go that way."  He pointed towards the inside of the mountain.  Legolas nodded.

            "If we cannot yet get out, then we must make ourselves useful within. Come, we must find Arwen."


	22. Chapter 22: Continuing actionthe beginni...

Thank you for the reviews. I did receive them through e-mail, although ff.net seems to have since eaten them. Note: Stonehenge is in south-central England, not Scotland.

            "Legolas!  Gimli!"  Aragorn called as he heaved another stone to the side.  He slammed his palm against the wall of fallen rock and wiped sweat away from his brow.

            "Begging your pardon, my Lord, but this is hopeless."  General Mangor waved his arm at the caved in opening and shook his head wearily. "We've been hauling away stone for nigh on three hours now and there's nary a peep from them.  They were either killed in the fall, or the rocks go back so far they cannot hear us.  If I may, perhaps our efforts would be better spent finding another entrance?"

            At the word 'killed', Sam buried his head into the scruff of Maggie's neck.  Frodo laid his hand on Sam's shoulder and sank to his knees next to him.

            Aragorn breathed heavily, still glaring angrily at the cave-in. "We were told this is the only entrance."

            General Mangor rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Perhaps the people were not entirely…honest with you, Lord Aragorn.  If they worship this witch, as you say, they might not have-" He stopped abruptly as Aragorn turned suddenly to face him.

            "Take your men, General, and go east around the mountain.  I will take mine and go west.  Should you find entry, send a runner immediately.  Go!  Time runs short!"

            With Elves and Hobbits following, Aragorn struck out, following the mountain's base.  Sam and Frodo looked at one another, then followed.  By nightfall, the sheer side of the mountain was beginning to slough off, and the group had entered a dark forest that ran into the base of the rock.

            Hesitating at the entrance, Elrond slid his hand lightly up the trunk of an enormous tree.  He closed his eyes in concentration then blinked up thoughtfully at the low-hanging branches. "There is old magic here.  Very old magic, indeed."  Sam eyed the limbs over him fearfully and edged closer to Frodo and Merry.

            "What choice have we?" Aragorn asked wearily. Elrond nodded slowly, still watching overhead. 

Drawing his sword, Aragorn led the way down the dark path. "But all should keep watch."

*********

            "Wait—slow down!" Miranda wheezed as she paused, clutching her side.  Brief annoyance skimmed Gimli's face, but he stopped, resting his axe and examining the tunnel.

            "Here, eat this."  Legolas appeared next to Miranda's hunched over body and offered her _lembas_.

            **Yay.  More crackers,** Miranda thought bitterly as she tried to choke a bite down.  They had little water, and she felt guilty.  She was two steps away from needing an ambulance, while Gimli was barely breaking a sweat.  Legolas, of course, showed no outward signs of exertion at all.  Miranda mentally bared her teeth at him.  She knew she was slowing them down, but she went as fast as she could. 

            They had traveled through tunnels for nearly seven days.  The water was nearly gone, although the _lembas_ would hold out.  There was no outside light.  The little illumination they had was a small torch Legolas carried.  

**Good thing Gimli was in the Boy Scouts,** Miranda had thought as Gimli revealed the flint in his pocket. But the bits of wood they had found would not burn indefinitely, either.  They needed to get out of the tunnel, but it seemed unending. 

She started as Legolas dropped beside her, breaking into her musings. "We should move on." His eyes darted from the darkness before them to the shadows behind. "There are foul creatures in these tunnels. I would we did not meet with any."  Gimli shuddered in affirmation, scrutinizing the floor.  Helping Miranda to her feet, Legolas took his torch again and led the way. Without being asked, Gimli fell behind, putting the weakest member of their trio in the middle.

As they continued on their way, the floor evened out.  Eventually, Miranda no longer need to concentrate solely on keeping her balance and allowed her mind to wander. Every night, or what they thought might be night, they had paused for a few hours to allow Miranda to sleep.  The first time had been awkward as she had lain near Legolas.  The second night had been slightly less so and by the previous night, he had spoken to her, softly, for quite some time.

Some mad impulse had caused her to ask him what he intended to do if they made it out of the mountain alive.  She had been joking, but he had answered seriously.  He told her about his dream of returning to Ithilien, of bringing his people back to his ancestral home. His face had become drawn and pensive as he'd spoken of his father.  He spoke of Thranduil in conflicting tones.  He admired his father and thought him a kind, just leader, but staid and stagnant.  The world was changing around them and Legolas wanted to change with it.  His people, however, his family, wanted to preserve their lives as it was.

He had seemed so passionate, so wistful, that Miranda found herself wanting to throw her arms around him and tell him it would all work out in the end.  This had stopped her cold.

**Since when have I become the hand-holder?** she thought, stunned.  What did this mean?  For the first time, Miranda acknowledged to herself that she felt more than mere lust for him.  But this…this was a scary thought.

**I can't be in…in love with him!  I just can't be!  I mean, I barely know him –** 

She stared at Legolas's back in surprise.  She did _sort of_ know him.  She knew his looks, his angry eyebrow lift, his happy eyebrow lift, his excited temple tic… She knew his private dreams and the way his lips tasted… She knew him to be kind and patient, though at times harsh and demanding.  She knew he hid his ardor for living behind Elfish aloofness.  

She knew he was arrogant and confident, but also loyal and open-minded.

**Argh!** So she had feelings for him.  Strong feelings.  That didn't mean she could just jump into his life and live happily ever after.  This wasn't like the stories where Cinderella and Prince Charming kissed and the rest of their lives could be summed up in a sentence.

            What if she did love Legolas?  What would her life with him be like? What place would she hold in his life? He would be busy, creating a new city, a new way of life and she? She would find herself set in a room somewhere, safe, taken care of, and utterly bored.

What could she do? She had virtually no skills --none that would do her any good here, at least. What did women do here? Sit and read? Stare out the window? Sew? Miranda looked down at her hands. They were filthy; the nails had been ripped and bitten to the quick. Her palms bore thick calluses from the long months of learning to use a sword. A thick white scar wrapped around the base of her left thumb, a reminder to never guide the sword into its sheath with her palm.

No, a lady she could never be. And there were other issues, too, to consider. She was definitely attracted to him and cared for him, but did she truly love him? She thought she loved Dave…but she got over him quickly enough.

And what of him? Did he love her? _Could_ he love her? And what happened when she grew old, and fat and sick, while he was ever young and beautiful?

And what of children? Would he want children?  Could they even produce children, being of possibly dissimilar species?  Could she face childbirth in a place without doctors and drugs and amniocentesis?

She pictured herself ironing his tunics and breeches, baking bread and trying to make friends with the beautiful, perfect Elf-maidens, who made her feel more inadequate than she ever had felt before.

On the other hand, could she return to her own world? In spite of her raw nerves, frozen fingers and dry throat…this was….well, kind of exciting.  She was on a mission to save someone!  How could she return to everyday life where nothing was exciting, everything predictable, where she would resume the monotony of mediocrity? She tried of bring a mental picture of Dave forth, but only Legolas's face swam before her.

Could any other man ever measure up?

Could she leave Sam after everything he had done for her? Could she bear never seeing Merry and Pippin and Frodo again?

Sighing, she pushed the ambivalent thoughts away and concentrated on the dry, scratchy feeling in her throat. They needed water and soon.

Legolas heard her sigh and looked back, catching a glimpse of Miranda as she rubbed her hand wearily across her eyes. She stumbled slightly on a rock and swore. Behind her, Legolas could hear Gimli's rasping breath. They had run out of water the previous morning. 

Legolas knew than both humans and dwarfs needed water daily and could go only a few days without it. Every nerve was screaming that they were being followed; yet he heard and saw nothing. A few hours before, the tunnel had given way to a large cavern, faintly lit from unseen sources. It reminded him terribly of Khazad-dûm and he wanted nothing more than to get away. The pain of losing Gandalf, though he returned, was still fresh within his heart.

At the same time, however, he felt happy for the first time in weeks. They had developed a new closeness in the past week -- a new trust. She smiled at him often again, in spite of their hardships.  He thought of the previous evening, when she had spoken briefly about things she missed from her world.

"There are so many beautiful things I wish I could share!  I spent a summer traveling through a place called Italy.  It has many….romantic connotations for people in my world.  I, um, I'd been traveling alone for nearly two months - the only people I spoke with were shopkeepers and beggars.  I was _so_ lonely.  And then one night I came across a concert, three famous singers giving a free concert outside of the ruins of an ancient building called the Coliseum.  It was night and balmy outside and thousands of people were sitting on walls and the ground-- lovers and friends and families with children, all sitting together and listening to this music, _loving_ this music. It was magical. I felt—I felt like I'd come home."  She looked away, embarrassed as tears slipped down her cheeks.  "I didn't talk to a single person.   I didn't have to.  There was a connection in  just _being_ there." She shook her head, slightly.  "I'm sorry-  I don't know why I'm telling you this…"

He took her hand in his, and started to speak, haltingly, of his travels with Gimli the previous year.  He told her of his life-long dislike of all things dwarfish and of his surprise that Dwarfs were not what he had thought.

"He was rude, foolhardy, and clumsy and he rather smelled," Legolas smiled, "But he did not hesitate to give his all.  And he fell in love with the Lady of the Wood and earned her esteem.  He is loyal and true and a worthy ally."

Without meaning to, he had then spoken of Ithilien and his dream of restoring it to its former glory.  He had never told anyone of this before and found himself anxious that she might find his visions full of folly.  But she had admired him for them.

A loud crack from above started Legolas briefly, but his quick reflexes had his arrow cocked and pointed toward the shadowy ceiling in seconds. Gimli had raised his axe and Miranda stood with her sword drawn, though fear was etched on her face.

A smoky figure appeared high above them, wavering slightly.

"You are not the one I seek," came a low, raspy voice.  The figure seemed to examine each of the three in turn and then gave a low, eerie call.  The hair rose on the back of Legolas's neck and he lowered his arrow slightly as he saw movement lower down.

"Where is the lady Arwen?" Legolas called out. Gimli shook his axe menacingly.  The figure seemed to solidify, but was too far away to see in detail.

"None of you is the one who will help me," it said.  "Kill them."  The figure disappeared from view entirely.

"Kill us?" Miranda said nervously.  "Who-who was she talking to?"  Before the words were entirely out of her mouth, her questioned was answered.  Coming towards them, materializing from the shadows were wolves.  But these were unlike any Miranda had seen before.  Nearly as large as a pony with glowing green eyes, they snarled and snapped as they crawled down the wall.  Instead of paws, they had four hands with long, lethal-looking claws.  They scaled down the walls and came for the three intruders.

"Run!"  Miranda turned and ran, her hearting hammering painfully and her sword heavy in her hand.  Gimli and Legolas would have easily outrun her, had Legolas not grabbed the collar of her cloak and hauled her along.  They ducked through a cave that led onto varied level cavern.  A dull red light lit the way.  

Suddenly a black blur appeared before Miranda's eyes and she was lifted into the air. The four-inch long claws dug into her upper arm as she struggled.  An enormous shaggy head drew near her own, revealing sharp, yellow teeth.  As it opened it's mouth the bite, Miranda heard a loud twang and felt the wolf shudder as the arrow pierced it's left eye.  It howled in pain and threw Miranda down.  She fell past Legolas and Gimli, screaming as the ground rushed up to meet her.  Like a nightmare, it seemed to slow down as she hit the ground, one leg tucked beneath her and the other outstretched.  A sickening crack tore through her body and she heard the snap of her thigh bone as she slammed into the rocky ground.

"Miranda!"  she heard a distant voice call.  Dimly, she looked around, a dull ringing in her ears.  Everything seemed far away.  Then her eyes drifted down and she saw the odd angle at which her right leg lay.  

**Going to be sick,** she thought randomly as she threw up messily.  Heavy boots landed beside her and she looked up blearily, expecting Gimli.  The boots, however, fell over to each side and at first, Miranda did not understand what she was seeing.  Then, as something else slammed into the rock next to her, she realized what had happened.  Her mouth opened in a hysterical scream and she couldn't stop.

Miranda pulled away in horror, the red glow reflecting in her widened eyes.  
Where his legs had been were left stumps, white bone thrusting out of red gore. Her stomach revolted again, but there was no time. No time! Legolas appeared as suddenly as if he'd been transported.  
            "Gimli!" His voice has harsh, at once terrified and panicked. "Gimli!" he cried again, attempting to pick up the dying Dwarf. The wolves were nearly upon them, thousands of repugnant monsters drooling and gasping at the sight of the three travelers. 

Gimli coughed, spat blood and growled, "Put me down, you addle-brained Elf!" His voice was barely a whisper. He grasped the short dagger from his belt and thrust it at Legolas. "Do it!" He commanded, his breathe coming out hoarse and painful. Legolas drew back in horror, shaking his head.  
            "No! I can carry you both! Somehow I-" Gimli shook his head, frustration evident in the sweat beading his low brow.  
            "No time!" He said. He was gasping for air, his skin already paling and growing cold. "Miranda-.....help her....I'm done." He motioned vaguely towards his torn thighs. The hideous screaming of the wolves was nearer. They were crawling down from the top of the cliff.  
            "You know.....what.... they will do! The wolves! What they'll do to me..." Gimli panted, pain radiating from every feature. He again pushed at the dagger in Legolas's hand, his movements weak. Still Legolas shook his head.  
            "I cannot! O dear friend–– I cannot!"  
            "DO IT!" roared Gimli, his eyes reddening. As the first wolf dropped beside them, Miranda grabbed her knife and awkwardly lunged just as Legolas plunged the dagger deep into Gimli's carotid. His eyes dead, Legolas heaved Miranda over his shoulder and ran swiftly over the rocks. His heart thudded dully in his own ears and his thoughts were vacant. 

Quite suddenly the path ran into a low hanging rock and he burst through into a dense forest. He ran for nearly two miles before realizing he was slogging waist deep through a river.  
            Coming back to himself, he laid Miranda gently on the bank and tended to her wounds. Her right leg was broken in two places and he pushed it back into place with a sickening crunch. Her face was smeared with blood––her own, the wolf's and, Legolas realized, Gimli's. As the sun rose, appearing faintly through the leaves, Miranda slept, and Legolas stared into the sun; the only thought in his mind was the mental picture of Gimli pleading with him… to die honourably. As the sunlight broke through the canopy above, Legolas closed his eyes and slept dreamlessly for the first time in a thousand years.


	23. Chapter 23: Bloodlust: Earning the RRati...

"Merry!"  
  
"Merry!"  
  
Merry looked back at Pippin in annoyance. "What?"  
  
"I think we've bin goin' in circles," Pippin whispered, glancing up nervously to make sure Aragorn had not heard. Merry, too, looked up quickly. Aragorn had grown steadily angrier, until the slightest provocation set him off. The rest of the company walked on eggshells, though their nerves were also on edge.  
  
They had entered the dark forest quite some time before. The exact amount of time was difficult to judge. The sun seemed to rise and fall randomly, without reason. Their food had long since disappeared, suggesting that they had, in fact, been wandering for a month. Yet it felt like only a few days. Following the path around the base of the mountain, they had reached a point in which the path veered away. At first, Aragorn had attempted to slash directly through the undergrowth. He had been unable to cut through many of the plants however and they had almost seemed to constrict around him.  
  
"You're not alone, Pip," Sam said, catching up. "This is the third time we crossed that creek. Look!" He held up a small leather bag. "I left this at the edge, the last time we went over. That was six or seven sunsets ago." Frodo and Merry exchanged glances.  
  
"And nothing.feels right, if you know what I mean," Sam said, rubbing his arms apprehensively. Pippin nodded emphatically. His hand rested on the hilt of his short sword. His skin had been crawling since they'd entered the woods.  
  
"I feel it, too. But unless you fancy having a chat with him," Merry said, jerking his thumb back at Aragorn, "We follow his lead."  
  
Elrond stood near the edge of their encampment, staring off into the wood. The darkness was unlike any he had known before. The heavy branches above shut out all starlight. The atmosphere seemed cloying, as though it were holding them in place. The humans and Hobbits fell drowsy more and more often. They were sleeping nearly half the day away now. Even he was feeling the heaviness inherent around him. The air was suffocating, pressing him down.  
  
He turned with difficulty, and saw the humans and Hobbits fast asleep, lying in odd positions, as though they had simply fallen over. Elrohir was leaning heavily on his bow, blinking rapidly, while Ellahan was making his way slowly towards his father.  
  
"A sickness?" he wheezed. Elrond tried to shake his head, but it would no longer respond. He slid to the ground; his body heavier than it had ever felt before.  
  
"Dark." he whispered and his eyes closed involuntarily. "Sleep." The trees and vines formed a sinuous tarp, blocking out all light and closing in around the sleeping forms as though in perverse protectiveness.  
  
High above, a dark figure watched in satisfaction.  
  
"Not yet, bright one, not yet."  
  
********  
**Water.** Thirst penetrated her slumber. **Need water.** Miranda blinked open her eyes, wincing at the thin shaft of light that fell through the canopy of leaves above. **I will never, ever drink again,** she though as she tried to roll to her side. But instead of feeling the soft mattress of her cot beneath her, she felt dried leaves and soft mud. Her foot slipped from its perch fell six inches with a soft splash.  
  
"Water," Miranda croaked, and tried to sit up. White-hot pain shot up her thigh to her groin muscle and stomach as she twisted her leg. Better to lie still. If she didn't move, the pain wasn't there. But her throat was scratchy and her tongue felt oddly huge, as though it had swollen to three times its normal size. She was so thirsty.  
  
"Drink slowly," said a soft voice near her ear. Legolas. She felt droplets of water hit her jaw and instinctively opened her mouth. Water, blessedly cool water slid over her tongue and down her throat. She coughed and sputtered, but a heavy hand held her shoulder down. "If you move, it will hurt." So she tried to lie quietly, allowing him to trickle handfuls of water into her open mouth.  
  
As her thirst was slowly quenched, she noticed the taste of the water. It tasted rusty, lots of iron, like blood- her eyes opened wide in shock as the full reason for the pain in her leg and the hollow sound of Legolas's voice came rushing back.  
  
Gimli. Gimli was dead.  
  
Tears formed in her dry eyes, and spilled down her cheeks to her temples. Gimli was dead. Legolas. He must be hurting. She turned her stiff neck slowly and he swam into focus. He was seated not six inches away, staring into the stream vacantly.  
  
"Legolas," she said, her voice cracking. He did not look at her, but continued to stare at the water. She tried to reach out her hand, but hissed in pain as the movement jarred her leg. Legolas didn't move.  
  
"I set your leg, but you are badly injured. It is best if you rest." His tone was curt, abrupt. Miranda lay still, hurt by his utter indifference both to her motion of empathy and to her pain. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall back asleep.  
  
********  
Legolas blinked and came back to himself. The feeble light that had shone through the forest was gone and the night was starless. He had traveled within his memories, reliving his journeys with Gimli. He smiled as he recalled their inauspicious first meeting in Imladris- Gimli's harsh words and passionate decree of hate for all Elves. He, Legolas, had been no better. Set in his ways, certain that he knew everything.  
  
"So arrogant," he murmured. Gimli had cured him of that, though. In spite of his gruff demeanor and growling temper, Gimli laughed often and hard. He'd taught Legolas to take himself less seriously, no small feat for an Elf. And he'd given his life for Legolas-for Legolas and Miranda. He laid his head on his knees and withdrew into himself again, grieving for a brave warrior and dear friend.  
  
As morning dawned, Miranda felt herself being lightly shaken. She opened bleary eyes and was greeted by Legolas's angry face.  
  
"Wha- Legolas?" She reached out to touch him but he looked away.  
  
**He blames me,** she thought. **He blames me for Gimli's death.** And he was right to. It was her fault Gimli was dead. If she hadn't been hurt, if she hadn't fallen, if she hadn't gotten them caught in the damned mountain in the first place..  
  
"Legolas..I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Her voice trailed off as she struggled with the inadequacy of her words. "It's my fault, I shouldn't have-"  
  
"No," Legolas said abruptly. "It is not your fault. But I.I cannot look at you. Not yet." He rose to his feet, still looking away. "His axe." He stopped. "Gimli dropped his axe. I am going to retrieve it. I will be gone less than a day. You will be safe here, I believe. Stay close to the water. If someone should happen by, you may conceal yourself in the waterweeds. The beasts cannot scent you there."  
  
Miranda nodded, and turned her head, but he was already gone, his path silent and swift. Her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her how long it had been since her last meal of lembas.  
  
**What I wouldn't give for a hot, greasy plate of chips. And a bottle of aspirin,** she added silently as her leg throbbed hotly.  
  
************  
  
Legolas dropped from the tree he had climbed, landing silently. He was lost. Having never been lost before, he was confused by the very idea. The woods seemed to be shifting, somehow, swallowing the path as he moved. Baring his teeth in frustration, he reached behind him, grasping the carved-handled daggers on his back. Slashing angrily at the vegetation before him, he made his own way, away from the path towards the mountain. He broke through into a clearing, suddenly, nimbly sidestepping a prone body.  
  
"Master Elrond?" The form before him stirred and blinked in the bright light shining behind Legolas. As though a spell had been broken, the other bodies began to wake, rubbing eyes and stumbling to wobbly feet.  
  
"Aragorn! What has happened?" Legolas dropped to his knees beside his friend. Aragorn rubbed his head, as though confused and looked slowly from left to right.  
  
"We were circling the mountain, looking for a way to enter when the forest seemed to.seemed to close in around us. And we became tired, too tired to continue. That is the last thing I remember." Legolas nodded.  
  
"The forest seemed to hide the path from me, doubling back and changing direction. But when I left it and cut directly through, the plants offered little resistance."  
  
"Where's Miranda? And Gimli?" said Pippin, rubbing his sore rear. He had fallen asleep on a rather uncomfortable root.  
  
Legolas's face darkened and he looked away. "Gimli is dead. Miranda badly injured." Aragorn gazed at Legolas, and grasped his shoulders firmly. He'd never seen Legolas look so lost.  
  
"How?" Aragorn asked simply. Legolas haltingly explained their journey through the mountain, ending it with his leave-taking of Miranda. After picking up their encampment, the entire group returned to find Miranda. While the others rested, Elrond placed his hand on Miranda's leg and fell into a healing trance. When she woke, Miranda found herself surrounded by familiar faces.  
  
"Sam!" She found herself wrapped in a several arms with a furry tail thwapping her leg.  
  
"Gimli-" Sam began, tears coursing down his face. Miranda nodded and buried her face against his small, but sturdy shoulder. Together, they all mourned their loss. All too soon, however, they continued on the path, searching for the mountain. As the sun rose the following morning, Aragorn and Elrond were conferring with Legolas about the best way to enter the mountain.  
  
"If we can find the cave from which Miranda and I exited we might-Look!" The Elves and Hobbits turned at Legolas's exclamation. Directly behind him was the open expanse of rocks that led to the entrance of the mountain. Concerned glances were exchanged.  
  
"That was not there five minutes ago," Merry said carefully.  
  
"The forest seems to have opened up," Aragorn said, creeping towards the opening in the trees. Ahead, he could make out the dark entryway, though it was very far off. As he scanned the area for signs of life, he caught movement from the far left.  
  
"Legolas! Something moves there," Aragorn said, pointing off in the distance. Legolas stared hard and grabbed Aragorn's arm.  
  
"It is General Mangor and his men. They come swiftly, as though-" Instinctively, Legolas reached for his bow. "As though being chased." The group waited tensely, but nothing appeared behind the general's men.  
  
"Milord!" General Mangor said, sliding off his mount. He was bloody, his sword in hand. "There are Orcs and enormous wolves," he wheezed. "They appeared from a hidden entry into the mountain and attacked, but retreated as the sun rose. I fear they will come once the sun sets again. We must leave, now!" Miranda and Sam started to turn, only to happy to run, but Aragorn's voice rang out.  
  
"No." He drew his sword. "If that is the only way into the mountain, then we will fight." His tone was final. He and the Elves would not stop until they had freed Arwen and Legolas would not stop till he had avenged Gimli's death. General Mangor sighed, but nodded.  
  
"I suggest we seek the higher ground there," he said, nodding with head. As the day progressed, they set up a barrier, stocked weapons and prepared to fight. Miranda watched Legolas, her heart heavy. She started as one of the general's soldiers tapped her shoulder.  
  
"My lady, may I offer you a mount? It would be safer for you, I think. The Elf advised it," he said, offering her reins. She took them, comforted by Arod's familiar face.  
  
As the sun started to sink, Aragorn gave Miranda and the Hobbits strict instructions to stay back, and only fight to defend themselves. Merry and Pippin pulled back, insulted, but Sam thought it sound advice. He remembered only too well, his previous encounters with Orcs. As the last vestiges of sun disappeared, movement started at the mountain entry.  
  
"Miranda?" Miranda looked down in surprise. Legolas stood next to her, his hand on her leg. "I wanted only to say that I-" he broke off as Aragorn appeared.  
  
"They come now. Be ready." Legolas nodded and tighten his hold on Miranda briefly then followed Aragorn.  
  
"They'll come," said Frodo quietly. "They'll come and then-" Miranda looked over at him.  
  
"And then"" she asked.  
  
"And then we fight."  
  
The last glimpse of wolf and Orc, and the terror that accompanied it were fresh in Miranda's mind, as was the pain of loss.  
  
**You were the ones who did that to him,** she thought, shuddering at the memory of the proud Dwarf reduced to blood and bones. Added to that was the pain of seeing Legolas grieving, grieving and feeling guilt. He thought himself at guilt for not saving his friend. Miranda felt guilt at having caused she whole situation. She hated these beings more than anything she had hated before.  
  
Every sense felt suddenly alive with her hate; she breathed it, smelled it, tasted it. Nearby, Legolas's eyes were bright with a terrible look, one she had never seen. He sought revenge and punishment on these creatures and was happy to do it.  
  
The hair on her arms stood on end as the battle cry rose. Every nerve ending seemed to be on fire and she hefted her sword and clamped her knees tight around Arod's muscled body. And suddenly, before she could comprehend it, her arms were swinging and a heavy THUD vibrated up her torso. Her left arm went numb and she almost dropped the sword. It had cleaved into a shield when she had expected flesh.  
  
With a cry of rage, she reversed her swing and came at the beast from the other side. There was nothing smooth or clean in her attack, as she had seen with Legolas or Aragorn. She missed its neck and her sword was embedded in its shoulder. Growling, it spat at her and reached out clawed hands. As she recoiled in disgust, one gray hand closed round her knee and tugged. Though she grasped wildly at Arod's mane, she started to slide.  
  
**This is it. All that training, and I'm going to die in the first minute of battle,** she thought dimly. Suddenly, however, her seat jerked back and instinctively she rose in the stirrups keeping her balance. Arod's heavy, sharpened hooves came crashing down and with a crunch, crushed the Orc's head.  
  
**Battle-trained.** Such a major detail and she'd forgotten. As feeling began to return, she realized the sword was still in her right hand. Arod was attacking with vengeance, but it was not his fight; it was hers. As something black came at her, she whipped the blade over her head and down, ripping off an arm from the monster.  
  
It came again and she plunged the sword into its neck and felt hot, sticky blood spray her face. As though it were a cool, refreshing drink, the blood revived her and she stabbed at her next victim, relishing the feeling of her blade sliding into its stomach. Dead. She wanted them all dead.  
  
Bloodlust had hit with a vengeance and she loved it. Only in novels had she read of blood singing, and yet now it occurred in reality. Never had she felt more alive. All horror, fear and reluctance fled, leaving her scarcely aware of anything but her prey.  
  
When a spear caught under her leg and pulled her off Arod, she fell into the mud, pulling at the dagger in her belt. When the yellow teeth and grotesque face came at her, she grabbed it, pulled it close as though in an embrace, clutched it to her in a perverse parody of love, and sank her dagger deep in its skull. The weight crushed her into the mud, and a sickly sweet smell met her as the Orc's bowels released in death. She felt like laughing. It was dead. She was alive.  
  
She lost track of time, lost track of other people. All she knew was the kill. The Orcs were vast in number, but stupid. They fairly threw themselves onto her blade, or so it seemed. Thrust, stab, plunge, rip, destroy.  
  
After a minute, an hour, a day, reality slowly began to creep in to her mind. She began to notice that Orcs no longer fell on top of her, that there was a space roughly a sword's length long where nothing moved surrounding her. Shaking her head as though dazed, she realized the sun was out and someone was calling her name.  
  
"Miranda!" She tried to locate the sound, but it was far away and her head wouldn't quite obey her orders.  
  
"Miranda!" The voice was panicked and idly she tried to raise her sword, as though to say ''here I am!'' but it was too heavy. Stumbling, she sat on a pile of dead Orcs and tried to speak. Her voice was hoarse, from screaming her own battle cries and rage, though she did not know that.  
  
"Legolas?" Little more than a croak issued from her lips, but his Elven- hearing caught the sound and whirled.  
  
"Alive! You're alive!" He leapt over the wall and sprang up to her, catching her shoulders in a hug so tight, she couldn't breathe. When she made squeaking noises he released her, but began running hands over her arms and legs and torso, making sure she was not hurt. "I lost you." His voice was low, tight. "You disappeared so quickly, I thought.....I thought...." Roughly, he pulled her to him and kissed her. It was hard and angry and bruising, but she wanted it and she gave back as much as she got. She tangled her fists in his hair and drew his mouth even more tightly against hers, digging her nails into his shoulders.  
  
Bloodlust.  
  
He raised his head, though he still held her in an iron grip. His eyes were on fire and they blazed with fierceness. He began backing into the forest and pulled her along, though had she use of her feet, she would have come willingly. When at last they were away from the battlefield and in a dark, warm hollow, he turned to her and she dragged his mouth back to hers biting and sucking.  
  
Bloodlust.  
  
Together, they sank to the earth in one fluid movement. Long finger struggled with buckles and leather, but there was little in the way of what was most important.  
  
Bloodlust. She now understood what it meant.  
  
************  
  
"We should get back, the others will worry," he said, after far too short a time. He looked at her and suddenly grabbed her upper arms.  
  
"I could not find you. I thought... I thought..." He could not finish the sentence, but instead wrapped his arms around himself and backed away. He appeared angry, but she knew him well enough now to recognize the pain in his eyes.  
  
"You thought I was dead." He nodded. She tried to stand, but her legs would not work, so she held her arms open to him. He stared at her a moment and she thought perhaps she had misjudged his emotion. But then he came at her and knelt again before her, placing his head in her lap. She leaned over him, wrapping her arms as tightly as she could and cried. For long moments, neither moved, as they worked through their own feelings. Finally, she spoke,  
  
"I liked it, Legolas." He looked up.  
  
"The killing and the blood. I liked it. God, I loved it." Fresh tears fell as she realized the things she had done. "I'm a monster!"  
  
"No!" he said sharply, pulling her to her feet and against him.  
  
"No," he said again, softly. "You have the heart of a warrior. Your heart was happy because it was defending what it loved and destroying that which threatened it. You are no monster. You are astonishing." She smiled a bit at that.  
  
"Do you-- Did you--"  
  
"Did I feel it? Yes. I loved it as well. Inflicting pain, causing death. But I fear the student has outstripped her master!" She chuckled at this, knowing she would never come close to his level of expertise, even with a sword.  
  
"Did you keep count?" she asked. He stopped abruptly.  
  
**Shit. Now I've done it.** But he relaxed and turned with a smile.  
  
"96, and you?"  
  
She grinned. "Thirty. It's a start." 


End file.
